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BooANDiK Tribe 





Habits, Gnstoms, Legends, and Langnage. 

* ■ ■ ■ '•••'' I 





Oc ao2S,s 


, ISSUING to the world ibis little work on the 
Booandik Tribe of South Australian AborigineB, 
^ tlie authoresB denres to aseare her readers that she 
does so 00161; from a strong sense of duty. This 
ouce numerous and powerful tribe of South-Eaetem 
w represented by a miserable remnant, which will 
in a few years, with tiie other aboriginal peoples of Southern 
Australia, have withered away before the new mode of life 
forced upon them by the advent of European colonists in their 
midst, asnsted too often by the cruelties practised upon them 
by the early settlers; and in thus preserving a record of their 
characteristics, customs, habits, language, and legends, she feels 
that she is only perfomung a duty that her opportunities press 
upon her, and she trusts that in the future it will not be found 
unserviceable to the historian, tlie antiquary, and the philolo- 

Having been intimately acquainted with the aborigines of the 
South-East for a period of over thirty-five years, as a mis- 
sionary and teacher, first in union with her late husband, and, 
after his death, alone, she believes that she is in a better 
position than anyone else in the colony to write a memorial of 
them ; and she feels that if she did not do so it would be for 
ever unwritten, and the very name of the tribe with whom she 
has been so well acquainted, for wboTCt, %V%\taa &ssa&i^\&.'^ 


power to benefit, and who have always treated her as a friend 
and benefactor, would be for ever lost. The aborigines them- 
selyes are fully conscious of the decline of their race, and 
lament it bitterly, and many of the more intelligent of them 
have often requested the authoress not to allow them to be 
entirely forgotten. 

The authoress makes no pretensions to the possession of a 
finished or elegant stylo of writing, but sho trusts that the 
work, clothed in no garment but truth, and adorned with no 
ohanu but simplicity, will commend itself to the public of 
South Australia who feel an interest in the less privileged races 
who preceded them in the possession of this great country. 

She would here acknowledge her indebtedness to several 
kind friends who have generously assisted her in the compila- 
tion of the work. To her son, Mr. Duncan Stewart, formerly 
natiTQ interpreter in the district, she returns her warmest 
thanks, for compiling the extensive vocabidary of the Booandik 
dbdeot that concludes the work. She also gratefully acknow- 
kdgM the ready and cheerful assistance she has received from 
S« L. Hamilton, Esq., Sub-Protector of the Aborigines in the 
tolonyt not only iu connection with the natives for many years, 
Imt lUao in making preparations for the publication of this 
^IIOrk% To tho South Australian Government she also offers 
)M MOit gtlHVtoful thanks for their kindness in printing the 
HWk tw \iW fi^e of cost. 

JftMUt Gmbi0r, May, 1880. 


" » Si ' ^ ■ % ♦ • 



» Neddy 17 

v' Queen Caroline 35 

^ Patchuerimen (Jemmy MacIntyre) .... 49 

/Mary Anne (Wife of Tiger) 65 

V^TlGER 81 

-/Tiger's Children, with Mother .... 97 





PliBFACE '". 

List of Illustrations v. 

Introduction ix. 


Habits and Customs — 

Birth of Children 5 

Death and Burial 8 

Marriage 3 

Treatment of Widows 12 

Traditions and Lboends, Early Events — 

First Ship at Rivoli Bay 25 

First Cattle and Horses seen by natives 26 

How Fire was Obtained 16 

Last of the Giants 23 

Origin of MacDonnell Bay 22 

Origin of the Kangaroo 15 

The First Blacks 14 

Tennateona, or the Devil 23 

Why the Emu has Short Wings 22 

Wreck of the Maria . . . . . . . .24 

Chapter 3E1E1E. 
Svpbbstitions, Witchcraft, &c. — 

Belief in Witchcraft . . . : 28 

Dreaming of Women 29 

Idea of the Hereafter . ' 28 

Pangals, or Medicine Men 3P 

• •• 




Capability for Civilisation and Eyangblisation • - ' Z3 

dPi^Bpter HE. 
Mbmoibs — 

Boonduin 113 

Caboo, Wife and Children 77 

Kotawar 76 

Caroline and her Family 85 

Conversion of Black Bobby 107 

Emma, or Tenung 119 

Lohwoola 83 

Nathan. 116 

Patchuerimen 118 

The Dying Woman 8s 

Utcoonin 75 

Wergon 47 

Tanbo-araming 83 

Yara-nar-armen 120 


Lanouaob op thb Tribb — 

Structure of the Tongue 125 

yooabvlaby 127 

Bblationships 137 

S0N08 138 


—^ @i§@ii m— 




^HE aborigines of the South-East were divided into five 
^^ tribes, each occupying its own territory, and using 
•?|tK different dialects of the same language. Their names 
^ were "Booandik," "Pinejunga," " Mootatunga," 
J "Wichintunga," and " Polinjimga." 

The Booandik — of which this work specially treats — ^was the 
largest, and occupied that tract of country extending from the 
mouth of the Qlcnelg llivcr to Rivoli Bay North (Beachport), 
for about thirty miles inland. The other tribes occupied the 
country between Lacepede Bay and Border Town, abutting on 
the Booandik coimtry. The Ixibes, like most savage peoples, 
were in continual dread of each other; and although they 
occasionally met on friendly terms to hold a " murapena " 
(corroboree), it usually eventuated in a fight, in which one or 
two were killed and afterwards eaten. 

They were divided, irrespective of their country, into two 
classes — " Kumite ** and " Kroke." A Kroke must always take 
a Kumite gor (female) for a wife, and a Kumite must take a 
Kroke gor to wife. The children were said to belong to the 
mother's class. 

The Kumites were classed under five "totems," or family 
symbols, and the Kroke \mder four ; and all things, animate and 
inanimate, were said to belong to one or other of these totems. 
I append a few : — 


Boorte moola (fishhawk), Boorte parangal (pelican), Boorte 
wa (crow), Boorte wilier (black cocka.too\ \l^QQt\fe \3Kt^Xft 


(innoxious snake), smoke, honeysuckle, blackwood, fire, frost, 
dog, rain, thunder, lightning, stars, moon, fish, stringy bark, 
seal, eel, &c. 


Boorte wirmal (owl), Boorte wereo (teatree scrub), Boorte 
mooma (edible root), Boorte kara-al (white crestless cockatoo), 
duck, wallaby, opossum, crayfish, turkey, quail, poolatch, kan- 
garoo, sheaoak, sunmier, sun, &c. 

The above lists do not restrict the selection of a wife, but 
bear upon the food a man might eat. It was considered wrong 
to kill or use for food animals of the same totem as one's self. 
When forced by himger, one might break this rule by formally 
expressing sorrow for haying to eat one's fiiends, and no evil 
results followed ; but sickness and death were the penalties of 
wilful wrongdoing in this particular. 

They had no acknowledged chiefs. Justice was administered 
by the convention of " murapena" (corroboree), by some of the 
old men. The subject in dispute would be loudly discussed, 
and the strongest party woidd settle the matter to their own 
satisfaction. The following is an instance : — A powerful 
fellow named Permalooan, owner of several wives, was taken 
to Adelaide for spearing a cow. His oldest wife was too poor 
and diseased to attract attention. The second, who had a fine 
little boy, not yielding prompt compliance to the importunity 
of an urgent suitor, was killed with her child. The third 
and fattest wife, Makooning, went off cheerfully with a short 
yoimg fellow named Little Harry. After a time, Permalooan 
got out of gaol, and reached home a crippled old man. Little 
Harry and Makooning coidd not think of parting ; so Perma- 
looan brought the matter before the tribe at a murapena 
and the residt was that Little Harry was allowed to keep 
Makooning, and that, in exchange, he shoidd give Permalooan 

pair of blankets and hold his head to receive several blows 


of a waddy from Permalooan. I may here say that Boonodat, 
the slayer of the woman and child, was killed a short time 
previous while trying to take away a woman of the Pinejmiga 

It appears from the statements of the blacks themselves that 
the land belonging to the Booandik tribe was handed down from 
father to son, and its boimdaries properly marked out. They 
were wont to speak very proudly of their land, and of their 
forefothers, remarking what splendid hunters they were, and 
how they taught their children to love their coimtry. I have 
often heard my &ithful Jemmy Maclnt3rre (now deceased) say 
with great affection, "The Schanck was my father's land, 
which he seldom left, except to act as chief in quarrels and 
disputes, to prevent bloodshed. My imcles and my father and 
mother lie buried there. I buried my wife and child there. 
My heart was sorry when I left my land — I love it dearly." 
Their food consisted chiefly of kangaroo, fish, emu, opossum, 
fine roots, candart-seed, " meenatt," and honeysuckle. 



Pai\t First. 





^abU0 nnh €xxBtomB. 



FANTS arc betrothed to one another by their parents. 
Girls are betrothed by the father, with the concurrence 
of his brothers, into some family which has a daughter 
to give in exchange. They term this "wootambau" 
(exchanging). As they grow up to maturity, the youth- 
ful pair are spoken of in terms of the warmest friendship and 
respect by all parties — especially by the female portion of the 
tribe. Presents are expected by the mothers, either directly or 
indirectly, from the lovers or their nearest relatives. This gains 
a goodwill towards the intended son-in-law — although the 
mother is bound not to mention his name as long as she lives. 
A pair of ducks, a leg of a wombat, or a young emu — whatever 
is eatable — ^is acceptable to the craving appetite. The father, 
of course, is the lord of the soil ; and when the food is cooked 
in the hot ashes, or broiled, he receives his allotted share. He 
throws what he cannot eat over his shoidder to his female part- 
ner, who sits in the dark shade. 

Once while out pleasuring towards the Woakwine, with my 
family and an aged couple, ^lary Ann asked me what I thought 
of her "m'rado'' (land), and said with a smile of pleasure, 
" There is the swamp ; yonder is the lake. Here is the country 
" where I followed my husband when I was a ' burrich burrich ' 
" (a girl). There are my good swans, ' lapps lapps * (small fish), 
" ' gnai*][>s * (apples), * nroite ' (honey), * carlie paron marton ' 
" (plenty plenty good). I am old, and am the only wife he 
*' loved. He was the lord of Lake George (J^wVArx'^^^ 


Their marriage customs clearly indicate their sense that 
virtue is honor. Each tribe, as I have said, is di^-ided into two 
distinct classes, the Kumite and Kroke. If a man is a Kumite, 
his wife must be a Kroke ; and if a man is a Kroke, his wife must 
be a Kumite. The children belong to the mother's class. The 
young men sometimes exchange their sisters for wives ; and woe 
to anyone that breaks his vows — ^liis sister is taken back by force 
and given to another. Parents do not allow any familiai-ity be- 
tween the boys and girls. If a strange boy comes on a visit with 
his friends to the family, the young and bashful girl turns her 
back, hangs her head do>vn, or covers herself in her mother's rug. 
The youth sits down sullenly, as if he had no eyes to see, or 
understanding, now that she honored him ; and partly through 
fear of the future, and partly out of respect to virtue, he is 
bound to leave her company and retire to the " natmul wurla '* 
(male house). An old man said to me one day that I should 
not allow my boys and girls to play together. " He was," he 
said, " an old man, and knew better than mc. The whites were 
" stupid ; and he would like me to take care of my daughters.'' 

The preliminaries concluded, the time for the ceremony at 
length comes, and the council meet the parents, who give up 
their daughter. The bride is about ten or twelve years of age, 
and ripe for marriage. A company, consisting of all the males 
and the bride, proceed to the bridegroom's wiu'la, wher^ he is 
l)dng on the ground, every limb and nerve in motion at the idea 
of the approaching ceremony. The company approach the 
wurla and halt ; edl eyes are fixed on the bridegroom lying on 
the ground. One of the honored men of the tribe takes his 
seat beside him ; the father takes the bride by the hand, and 
says to the bridesmen, " You give my daughter with the 
"consent of all her males you see standing around." The young 
men turn to the bridegroom, and say, " Here is your wife." 
She then places herself beside him, and the bridesmen politely 
walk away. The whole company then return to their ^^'urlas, 
and leave the young couple to themselves. For five nights she 
sleeps about two yards from her husband ; the fifth night her 
father goes to her, and persuades her to give up all her bashful- 
ness. The ceremony is ended, and the married couple roam 
the woods in search of food. Each one lives apart. 

The mother-in-l&w and son-in-law must not speak to each 



other, or even come into each other's presence. Those persons 
connected by marriage (excepting husband and wife) talk to 
each other in a low whining tone, and use words different to 
those in common use. I may state that polygamy was the rule ; 
most of the men had two wives, but some had as many as five. 
The Booandik words for marriage are " wooen " (given), and 
" manen " (taken). 

Birth of Children. 

When a baby is about to be born, a nurse is set to help the 
mother, and watch her in case she attempts to harm either her- 
seK or her baby when it is born, as they will sometimes kill it 
to avoid the bother of nursing it. The custom of the women is 
to retire to some pleasant part of the country to be confined, 
accompanied by a ** moitmum" (nurse). Her superstitious lord 
will not receive his spouse until her days of purification are over. 
On the journey home she has to sleep with her child in the 
open air, without any shelter, every mght, till she draws near 
home; when the feat is performed, she lies at her cold 
savage husband's door, without a kind word to soothe her. The 
next nieht he takes his wife inside. I have pleaded with the 
husbands to be kind to their wives, but they were too grounded 
in their superstitious custom to grant my request. One man, to 
please me, took his children before the mother. They believe 
that if they see the blood of any of their relatives they will not 
be able to fight against their enemies, and will be killed. If the 
sun dazzles their eyes at a fight, the first unfortunate woman 
they afterwards meet is sure to receive a blow from the 
" wirren," or waddy. 

On one occasion I was asked to be present at the hour of 
nature and of sorrow. It was a showery day, and I found the 
mother lying on the ground, without a breakwind to shield her 
from the wet. I, with the nurse, pointed out a more suitable 
spot under a shady tree, and made a fire to warm the damp sandy 
eround, brought the mat to the fire, and covered the place with 
leaves and grass. A fine soft bush, called '* dinge," was gathered 
in handsf uf and placed round the fire in a circle to dry. This 
served as baby clothes. A finer kind 'wba ^VIImx^^ \<3t ^ ^-5$^^^ ^ 


wlioi tbe baby could sit on its mother's back in a mat made 
of ** nangroo," a large broad grass which grows on the sandy 
beach. It was WTi4>ped in a kangaroo skin. The nurse's most 
difficult du^ is to preyent the mother from killing herself or 
baby. In her pain she beats herself with her fist ; the nurse 
tells her kindly to have patience, and to soothe her will repeat 
all the names of her tribe. The child is bom (a girl), and the 
nurse says, ^ Here is a wife for the last young man I named." 

My son, who was interpreter, brought me word that I was 
wanted for another birth. With my staff and the Yarious 
necessaries I proceeded to the place, and found the women 
camped between two hills, which were prettily decked with 
yellow flowers. The sick woman, Wearwonong, was in great 
distress — so much so, that I almost despaired of her life. She 
would not permit me to help her, and the nurse told me to take 
care of myself for fear I might receive some injury from the 
patient when in pain, though she would be sorry for it after- 
wards. The nurse sat behind her with her hands clasped roimd 
her waist. The " moit-mum,"* would say, in jest, " Hold 
** her hand, ' witchinear ' (white woman), she wUl run away 
" to the bush. Look out, Missie Smith," which made the patient 
smile. We sent for a black doctor (pangal), but he sent back 
an answer, *' I will not come, for there is no fear, and you have 
" the ' witchinear ' with you." The young wives were also sent 
for, to lay their hands across her waist to act as a charm, and 
they also refused to come. The nurse said, with great cheerful- 
ness, '* Try and walk up to the top of that hill, and you will be 
** a happy mother when you come back." When mother and 
babe were all right, she walked to the fire and sat down. I 
asked her to take a warm drink, but she refused, saying, " By- 
and-bye," thanked me for my attention to her, and promised to 
ay me a visit the next day. I told her to be sure and not kill 
aby, and I would give her a blanket. 
Twelve months after I attended her again (the first baby was 
supposed to have been killed), when she bore a boy. Three 
weeks later Pendowen came to me and said that the child was 
dead. I went with her to the wurla, where I found the woman 
sitting before a large fire warming herself. She did not pay the 



• Moit-mimi tigniflM ** Bitting behind.*' 


slightest heed to us as we approached. Pendowen conunenced 
taLking and crying at a great rate, and at last got enraged, and 
went behind Wearwonong and commenced kicking the poor 
woman most immercif uUy^. I thought at every kick she would 
fftU headforemost into the fire. As soon as the outburst was 
over, she was quite calm. Poor Wearwonong was crying, having 
suffered all the blows without retaliating. Eage then turned to 
lamentation and mourning for the dead. The mother told, in a 
singing tone, that she did not kill the baby, but that it died 
through the night of pain in the intestines, and cried itself to 
death. I asked her where the body was. She lifted up her 
blanket and brought it out. I examined it, and found it swollen 
to a great extent ; but she again denied having killed it. I told 
her to bury it as soon as possible. On our way home I asked 
Pendowen what made her kick the poor creature in such a 
manner, and she replied, "It is our custom, for we have no con- 
** fidence in what the mother says, imless some of our ' druals ' 
" (blacks) are witnesses to its death." 

I was present on another of these eventful occasions. The 
young stranger was welcomed with joy by all around. The 
nearest relative had the honor of nursing it first. I left 
Pendowen behind to look after the mother, and on my way 
home I went to the male wurla to tell the father the happy 
news that he had a son, and requested him to go and see his 
wife. " To-morrow, to-morrow," he replied, in a rough voice, 
adding more fuel to the fire, without the slightest appearance of 
joy or even pleasure. Next morning he went to see his wife, 
and met her carrying the corpse of the baby, for it had died 
about sxmrise. He showed her no kindness or sympathy, but 
raised his hand and struck her to the ground and kicked her. 
Poor creature, she merited no such cruel treatment; but he 
imagined that she had killed the baby. He was enraged to 
think that out of six sons he had only two living to help him in 
time of war. In a few years those two also died. Tarrawing, 
the youngest, died while with Dr. Hope, of Geelong, who 
spoke of him in the most affectionate terms. Mutbana died a 
drunkard — which certainly was no credit to his master. 

It is customary for the women to kill their first child, as they 
do not wish the trouble of rearing them. Others take revenge, 
for the sufferings they imdergo on the cbild^ b^ «ILQr9;YCk% S^. \k^ 


bleed to death. I told an intelligent old woman to tell the 
young wives to save their children, and I would eive them a 
blanket. She informed them all of my wishes, and that I was 
sorry that they killed their babes. My name was often men- 
tioned at births, and my displeasure at such a practice. Mary 
Ann (a black woman) was present at a birth once where the 
mother tried to murder the new-bom infant. Mary Ann took 
the child in her apron, and said, '* I am off to Wilhjam (Riyoli 
" Bay), to Missie ; she will take care of the baby.'' The mother 
instantly shouted out, '* No, no ! I will never kiU him ;" and she 
kept her word. Mary Ann was proud of the good deed she had 
done, and we rejoiced together that she had at least saved one 
life. O, the dark places of this earth are full of cruelty ! I 
met other mothers that were kind to their children, and suckled 
them till they reached the age of four or five years. Since the 
intercourse of the aborigines with white people the children 
are very few in number, and are more seldom put to death. 
Many of the women ate their offspring ; they said it was a part 
of their flesh and made them strong. 

Death and Burial, 

The manner in which the blacks perform the burial ceremony 
is very interesting. The grave is dug about three feet deep, and 
made quite round. A fire is made in it to warm the earth, but 
not hot enough to heat the body. The corpse is bent together, 
rolled in an opossum skin, and laid in the grave with the head 
towards the west. It is then covered with bark, and the grave 
is filled up with earth. They have a superstition that the spirit, 
after death, goes somewhere to the sea. 

I once asked an old warrior if he would show me the grave 
of the white man the blackfellows said they had buried. He 
seemed imwilling at first to comply with my wishes, but I 
insisted, and promised him some tea and bread. We then pro- 
ceeded to a spot indicated by him, and to satisfy me he opened 
a grave. When he came to the bark he looked veir much 
surprised, and said, '* I think he is gone, for I laid the head to 
'Hhe west." I told him to search for it, and at last he found it, 


and said, smiling, " I buried my brother * dingwean ' (long time 
" ago) ; his head is here yet." After all, this was not the white 
man's grave the natives spoke of. 

The native mind cannot conceive of any such an event as a 
natural death. If ^anyone dies they think someone must have 
caused his death ; and as soon as they can determine who the 
guilty party is, he is put to death. One day a boy named 
Bimchy was playing with my family, and next day he went 
away with one of the bullock-drivers. The next news we heard 
was that he had been killed by one of his own tribe. The 
interpreter went and remonstrated with the murderer about his 
superstition and cruelty. He only replied, " I have killed him 
" for my father, for I loved my father ; and would you not do 
" the same ?" 

One evening, while I stood outside my house, I heard a death- 
cry down at the camp, and I asked one of the native women 
who stood near me, " Who is it that is crying ?" " My mother," 
was the reply, " my husband speared black man." I was very 
much shocked at the horrible murder brought so near to my 
notice, and at being told of it in such a cool, careless manner. 
Presently I saw a blackf ellow on the hill opposite our place, and 
heard him calling out, " Bloody rogue ! Kill my brother drual ; 
" me kill him." He came running towards me, leaped over a 
wheelbarrow that stood in his way, and rushed into the house. 
The young woman said, " Him cranky." The fellow came out 
with a gun in his hand, and pointing it towards Woakwync (Mr. 
Hope's station), where the poor man had been murdered (about 
fifteen miles distant), said, '* If I could I would kill him, and 
«' have his fat." 

After burial the women keep on lamenting and mourning for 
the departed, chanting all his or her good deeds, and burn their 
hair and scratch their faces with their finger nails. The men 
sit silent and gloomy, meditating as to who could have put 
their friend out of the way, and pondering some means of 
vengeance. All that the deceased owned while in the flesh is 
burned, so that nothing shall be left to revive the sorrow of 
the relatives. The dead are thus utterly forgotten. 

Death by sickness is invariably attributed to fetish, which 
they express by saying " Man-en yur-le ming" (they have taken 
his life ; but " life " is not the proper synonym^ Tha y&s^ 



common and dreaded form of death from fetish is " kan-an on'* 
(beaten with a waddy), and is said to be thus performed : — A 
man is foimd alone asleep. He is tapped gently all over his 
body and limbs with a stick called *' kan-o." He remains un- 
conscious. A stout blade of gi-ass is thrust into his nose, and 
twisted roimd rapidly ; something comes out on the grass blade, 
which the fetish swallows. The side of the victim is then 
opened with a sharp flint, and the kidney fat withdrawn. The 
opening closes up, and the sleeper awakes with a feeling of 
extreme lassitude, which continues to increase day by day until 
death ensues. 

For burial the body is doubled up into the smallest possible 
compass, and secured by suitable bindings. Soon after dark the 
male friends of the deceased seat themselves in a half -circle 
about the body ; and after some hours of silent watching the 
" bo-ong" (spirit) of the one who caused his death will appear 
in a human form hovering over the body, and then suddenly 
vanish. It is recognised. Next morning a shallow grave is 
scooped out in a soft place, a little grass or dry leaves is burnt 
in it to warm it ; the body is put in in a sitting posture, sticks 
are placed to keep the earth from pressing on it, and the grave 
is fiUed up and smoothed over. A few bushes are placed round 
the spot. The following day the smooth surface is examined, 
and the tracks of beetles, worms, or other animals are carefully 
noted. If they are recognised to be of the same tuman totem as 
the man already suspected, he must die. Yet the death of one 
of his friends will equally satisfy the claim of blood ! In this 
custom, however, they are scarcely worse than our own Christian 
ancestors were a century or two ago, in their treatment of 
suspected witches. 

Rheumatism and inflammation are the most serious diseases 
the natives have to contend against. When anyone is ill, the 
" pangal" (doctor) is sent for, and he examines the patient from 
head to foot, squeezes the muscles with his thumb, takes a 
mouthful of water and spouts it all over the patient, and repeats 
a long chain of imprecations (which he speaks with great 
vehemence) till completely out of breath. This mode of treat- 
ment is believed to be infallibly efiicacious in curing the 
patient. The pangal then sucks the sore part with his mouth, 
keeping fine grass between his teeth, so as not to leave the mark 


of his teetli on the skin ; and continues hissing and grunting 
till at last he finds a piece of bone or broken flint in the flesh, 
which he pretends he has taken out. While the doctor is 
operating, the patient is enduring extreme pain. The doctor 
puUs and drags the sufferer about most unmercifully, until he 
gets the foreign matter extracted, and then with great pride 
shows the patient the cause of the pain. A case of supposed 
cure by a pangal came under my own notice. An old woman 
named IQtty was blind for many weeks. We all thought it was 
owing to her old age, and that she would never receive her 
sight again. However, she did get her sight again, and she in- 
formed us that her good pangal performed an operation, or 
charm, as she called it, and brought out of her eye a long piece 
of grass. 

Hot fomentations are very beneficial to them. They are applied 
to sprains in this way : — The patient heats a smooth stone, lays 
a lot of herbs on it, and then lays the sore part of his limbs on 
the hot herbs. This same remedy was found very efficacious to 
some of my family in allaying the swelling caused by sprains. 
All their cures are performed by means of herbs. I have 
often seen the women who were ill with rheumatism completely 
enveloped in leaves. In any case when danger is anticipated, 
a fire is kindled in the middle of their clod wurla, all kinds of 
green leaves are heaped on top sufficient to bear the patient, 
sticks are laid across for him to lie on, a bottle of water is 
poured on the fire, and the patient is laid on this rude construc- 
tion to have a good steaming. Care is taken that he docs not 
catch cold ; and this operation generally succeeds in curing him. 
I was once very ill with toothache, and I asked one of the 
pangals to cure me. He advised me to do as the women of 
nis tribe did in such cases, viz., to place a coal to a lock of my 
hair and let it swing about my face. I did so, and informed 
him that I received no benefit from his cure. With a hearty 
laugh at my simplicity he said, *' Mutua ee-ong tong-a-nua" (I 
don't know the pain in your tooth). 

They had found no cure for snake-bite before the white man 
came. When anyone was bitten by a snake, he left the party 
he was with and leaped about to try his strength, imtd his 
stren^h failed him, and then he sank down on the groimd and 
died in a few hours. They compare the effects of snake-bite to 


a feeling of thorougli fatigue ; then a stupor comes oyer them, 
accompanied by great pain if bitten by a black snake, which is 
yery yenomous. One of our natiye boys was bit by a snake in 
the calf of the leg, but he courageously burnt the part with a 
fire-stick, and thus sayed his life. 

Treatment of Widows. 

A shepherd once informed mc that he had found a skull in a 
pool of water near Lake George * He seemed rather alarmed, as 
his hut was close to the grave. This discovery led to enquiry, 
and I gathered the following melancholy story from Mary Ann, 
the mistress of the soil: — The schooner Ehzahethy a whaling 
vessel, was driven ashore during a storm near Cape Martin 
(called by the natives " Darro ;" hterally, " scrubby country"). 
This was about the year 1840, as nearly as we could ascertain. 
One of the native women and her husband became acquainted 
with the sailors. After the schooner had been made ready for 
sea again, and departed, a boat drifted ashore, which was sup- 
posed to have belonged to the Elizabeth, The young woman's 
husband and another native ventured to enter the boat to go to 
a rock not far from the land ; but they had no idea of the use 
of, the oars, though they both thought they were good sailors. As 
the boat began to float away ti'om the shore one of them got 
frightened, and crying out"Yaki,yaki," he jumped into the sea. 
" Bating yarin " (water going down my throat) was his next 
cry. The spectators on shore, joming hands, went into the 
the water and rescued the poor fellow from drowning ; but the 
other unfortunate man remained in the boat, and was carried by 
the rapid current far away to sea, and in all probability was 
drowned. In vain his wife cried and wept for him to come 
back to her — he was gone beyond recall. And well she might 
be regretful at the loss of her husband, knowing as she did the 
doom that awaited her. That night the blacks kindled a great 
fire on the shore as a signal to the lost man. His widow had a 
yery short time to mourn his fate, as she found the boat next 
day floating bottom up in Guichen Bay. Next night the widow 
would not be comforted, and the other women mourned with 
her. She sat with her little child beside her, when her uncles 
came and roughly ordered her to go in with the men, according 


to the usual custom of widows. "Winanayon" (I will not 
go), was her reply. The other women then rose and left the 
poor sorrowing creature and her child io their doom. Mary 
Ann's husband was the first to stamp on the ground with his 
foot, prancing like a horse. Soon others joined him in his 
sayage rage. Madly they shook their flint-headed spears and 
flung them at her. One of them went through her heart. The 
blacks then rushed on and finished the horrible scene by killing 
the child. A few of her friends kindly buried her in the spot 
where the shepherd found her skull. 

It is the usual custom for a woman, after her husband dies, to 
be forced to lead an immoral life, under the care (!) of her 
nearest relative. Tliis degraded existence is considered a token 
of friendship, and makes peace with their warlike brethren. 
The widow is, however, sometimes given in marriage to some 
lover, who promises to give his sister in exchange. 

^ ••-^>^i)G>k^«* 





^rabitions anb %tqtritB. — (tscthst dbtnts* 

Ths First Blacks. 

XJL was the name of the great giant or ancestor 
of the tribe, and his first camping groond was Moont 
Mnirhead. The great desire of Craitbul and his wife 
and two sons was to find some place on which to settle 
and liye in peace, free from all fear of an ctiI spirit called 
** Tennateona," or ** Woor." They came from Wenger. They 
lired at Momit Mnirhead for a considerable time in peace. 
They made their oven, gathered their roots, roasted and ate 
them, and lived happy. At length, one day, they had made 
np their oven, put tiieir roots on the stones, coyered them 
up with earth, and went to rest; but during the night they 
were suddenly roused out of their sleep by a bird called 
^'bullin/' In great fear they fled, for fear of the evil spirit. 
They say that if anyone disbelieyes this story they may dig at 
the top of Moimt Muirhead, and there they will find evidence to 
prove its truth. Motint Muirhead was the oven. They then 
set out travelling again in search of a new home, and camped 
at Mount Schanck, where they thought Tennateona would not 
come near them« They put up their wurlas, bmlt their oven, 
and began to enjoy themselves ; but one night, when the oven 
was empty, the voice of the bullin (mooning) came to them a 
second time, and they got up and left in great fear. They 
determined this time to strike inland, away from water (the 
sea), for it appears that this evil spirit could not exist far away 
from the sea. Hiey left their camping ground at Mount Schanck, 
with its empty oven, and travelled to Mount Gambier (called 


Berrin), and there pitched their camp. They were now at rest 
from Tennateona, and they lived here a long time. They, as 
usual, made an oven here ; but one day water came up from 
the bottom of it and put out their fire. They then made another, 
with the same result — and so on, till they had four oyens. Their 
last home was in the cave on the side of the peak. There they 
had a view of all the land. 

Craitbul and his woman were of immense size ; Goliath must 
have been a dwarf in comparison. They had to stoop and bend 
their heads to get imder the tallest gum trees. The only imple- 
ments they had for digging were a large stick, termed a "canna,'' 
and their bare hands. 

Tlie Origin of the Kangaroo. 

Craitbul's sons, mentioned above, were one day playing with 
gum bark, and, by some curious freak of nature, the bark began 
to move of its own accord. Every day the boys went to play 
with the gum bark. They made legs and stuck them on to the 
body; then they shaped a head and fixed it on, and told 
Craitbul and the woman what they had been doing. Craitbul 
was so pleased with what they had been doing, that he breathed 
his breath into the bark and gave it life. They first made a 
male and then a female, and £rom this the kangaroos multiplied 
and became numerous. ITiey found they were fat and good to 
eat when they killed them with their spears. At this time, of 
course, they were tame, and could be killed without the labor of 
chasing them. 

One day the eldest of the boys saw a " brutput " (parrot) 
perched on the side of Mount Gambier on a stump, making a great 
noise — " ca-ca-ca." He climbed up to see what all the noise 
was about, and found a fine fat leg of a kangaroo, which had 
evidently been " planted '* by his brother. He was naturally 
enraged at the deceit of his brother, and told Craitbul about it ; 
and Craitbul breathed a high stormy wind into the kangaroos' 
noses, which made them wild and take flight at the sight of 
man. From that time men had to hunt them down when they 
were in want of food. Craitbul rebuked the boy for his greed 
and deceit ; but the latter was angry and not repentant, so that 
Berrin was no longer a paradise for CmtWL ^MaiixJti'fc ^^osssssl. 



Tlie two boys agreed to steal tlie kangaroos, and to tKijy end 
took adrantage ol a dark stonn j da j« and drove the a«w«ali^ 
with the wind till thej crossed the Gknclg Rircr, when thej came 
to a cave at the seaside. Here thej stopped and lived, forty 
miles from their fsth^s land. After a time they b^an to get 
tired of the cave, being desolate, alone, and ropentant of Sie 
evil they had done in stealing the kangaroos from Craithnl, and 
the sorrow they had caused their mother by leaving home. One 
morning, as the boys were apeaking about their mother, one of 
them said, ^ It is raining." The other replied, ^^ Yes ; open your 
month and drink." The water tasted like the milk from their 
mother's breast. They hurried out of the cave, and to their 
joy met their mother, whom they greeted with ^Nating 
" watton — ^Nating watton " (mother's come). 

The woman, after the boys had run away, mourned greatly 
for her children. She burnt her hair, scaircd her flesh, beat 
her breasts, and took her great strong *' canna " and beat the 
ground. She stood with her ** canna " in her hand on the top 
of the high Berrin, and looked east, west, north, and south, 
and the milk flowed from her breasts in the direction the boys 
had gone. Thus she tracked them to the cave. She said it 
had thimdered and lightened, and thimdercd in the ground 
C^mondle m'read"), and that she was afraid of the '^mcna- 
** nemon " (lightning), now that she was at peace. 

The two boys grew up to be men, and went to seek wives 
for themselves. They caught a ** brutput," and took its cars 
and made women of them, and made them their wives. The 
foregoing legend has often been told at the fireside by the old 
men to the children. 

Craitbul and his wife and children, when they foimd themselves 
approaching their end, are said to have got on to a spear — the 
woman on the point, the boys next, and Craitbul at the end, and 
were translated to one of the stars. And to this day, when that 
star is visible, the blacks say, " Craitbul is up there." 

How Fire was Obtained, 

What I am about to relate is the substance of an aboriginal 

tradition as to how the natives who possessed the country 

about here first obtained fire. I may remark that I foimd this 

storjr current only among the natives who clsumed the country 


between Mount Gambler and MacDonnell fiay. The Kivoli Bay 
blacks, as also those of Guichen Bay, were ignorant of it; while 
those about the mouth of the Murray River had a story some- 
what similar. More than half a score of years have elapsed since 
I last heard it. Those blacks who could tell it well have long 
since passed away. It runs thus :- — ^Alongtime ago, long before my 
informant's father came into existence (and he was a man tottering, 
apparently, under the weight of 60 years), the black people lived 
without fire to prepare their food with, and their knowledge of 
its practical benefits was limited to a belief that a man called 
Mar (cockatoo), who lived far away in the east, had it, and tliat 
he seli^shly monopolised it. Being a powerful man he was able 
to guard his secret possession from any force that migbt be 
brought to bear upon him. It' was the current belief that Mar 
kept his fire ConceiEded imder the tuft of feathers wbich he wore 
on his hqad. .However^ what could not be obtained by force 
was obtained by craft. There arose some disputes between 
several of the neighbouring tribes that required immediate 
arrangement, and to do so a great ^'murapena,'' as tbe blacks ' 
call it, or corroboree, was decided on. Messengers were sent 
in all directions to annoimce the day on which this meeting 
would take place. Mar was among those who came. At the 
hunt which preceded the corroboree a kangaroo was killed. 
Marsupials were, it^vould seem, not so plentiful at that distant 
time as ihey are now ; and native customs fully bear out this 
surmise. A kangaroo was killed; and, in order that many might 
partake of it, it was severed into small joints. As a mark of re-- 
spect to Mar, he was asked to accept of a very choice bit, but 
he declined it, as he did many other ofl^ers, till asked if he would 
have the skin. That was just what he wanted, and he carried 
it away with evident pleasure to his camp, which he had fixed, 
some distance apart. " What can he be going to do with the- 
" skin ? It will not be good eating," they said, " unless he pre- 
" pares it with his fire." The question was, who would go ta 
watch him and try to learn something about the fire they had 
heard about. Several talkative natives stood up saying they 
were ready to imdertake this service; but after submitting their 
plans for general approval, they were not considered fit — owing,, 
m some measure, to being too much given to talk to themselves. 
At last an active little fellow caUcA. "PxiXfc ^^^ ^xwil ^^msS^V^ 


was equal to the undertaking, by sneaking through the grass 
around their camp without being seen. He was sent, and soon 
reached the place where Mar was camping. After watching 
patiently for some time, he saw Mar look round, as if to satisfy 
nimself he was not watched, then yawning and putting his hand 
to his head as if to scratch it, he took the fire inun its place of 
concealment, and Prite had tiie satisfacticm of seeing the mys- 
terious fire glowing brightly before Mar. Prite returned and 
told all he saw, whereupon one called Tatkanna imdertook to go 
to learn something for them. He managed to get close to the 
fire, and felt its heat. Then he returned to report, and to show 
how the heat had singed his breast to a reddish color. Another 
then went up, taking with him a gprasstree stick. He saw Mar 
singing the hair off the kangaroo s£n, and managed, unobserved, 
to thrust his stick into the fire. Upon withdrawing it, the grass 
took fire. Mar sprang up alarmed, and strove, but in vain, to 
beat out the flames with his half-roasted skin. The fire spread 
rapidly over the long rank grass and dry underwood. Mar, 
grasping his waddies, rushed over to where the others were 
camped. He was in a great rage. He suspected some of them 
had been trying to steal his fire. He caught sight of Tatkanna, 
whose breast gave evidence of his having had something to do 
in the matter. Tatkanna, being a little fellow, began to cry ; 
whereupon Quartang stepped up, telling Mar if he wanted to 
fight he was ready, and was more his match than little Tatkanna. 
llbLe rest of the blacks were not long idle spectators ; all f oimd 
something to fight about. It is so long since I heard this 
that I have forgotten the names of most of those who dis- 
tinguished themselves on this very eventful day. This is to be 
regretted, as their names are necessary to the full understand- 
ing of the story. . However, Quartang soon had eno ugh. A hit 
with the point of that bootjack-like waddy called ''buamba," 
finished him. He leaped up off the ground into a tree, and 
was transformed into that bird now known as the laughing- jackass, 
and is said still to bear the mark of Mar's bootjack under his 
wing. Tatkanna became a robin red-breast. Prite also be- 
came a bird, but I cannot give its name in English. It is to 
l)e found among the undergrowth along the sea-coast. A big 
fat fellow called Koimterbull received a deep spear wound in 
the back .of his neck. He rushed away into the sea, and was 


often afterwards seen spouting water out of the spear wound. 
His name in English is ** whale." Mar himself, uninjured, flew 
up into a tree, and still raging and scolding became a cockatoo ; 
and a bare spot is pointed out on cooky's head, under his crest, 
where, it is said, the fire was kept secreted. 

Since that eventful day, if the natives by chance let their fire 
go out, they can readily get a light out of the grasstree by pro- 
curing two pieces of it, placing one horizontally on the 
ground and inserting in a notch made in it the end of the 
other, and then twirling the latter rapidly between the palms of 
the hands. In a short time the sticks will ignite, showing that 
it is still as capable of setting the bush in a blaze as in the day 
of Mar. 

They have a few other stories of men being transformed, and 
I have often asked who or what caused these metamorphoses, 
with the view of ascertaining their idea of a Supreme Governor. I 
found that they had no idea of an overruling power ; but I am in- 
clined to think that, at a period not very remote, they had a 
knowledge of a Great Cause. 

' 'J he above legend is also related by some of the natives as follows 
— Fire originated in the red crest of a cockatoo. Mar concealed 
the fire from his tribe for his own sole benefit, and his fellows 
were angry with him for his selfishness, llie wise cockatoos 
called a private meeting to consult on the best scheme to find 
out the secret from Mar. They met without loss of time 
among the thick gum-trees, and each one had his say in the 
matter. One wise old fellow said, " Let us gather all the 
*' kangaroos to one place. I will point out to you a certain one, 
*' and you inust all throw your spears at him, and kill him. We 
" will then invite Mar to come and share with us. We will give 
*' him the head, shoulders, and skin as his part, for he will take it 
" to his home, where he keeps the fire ; and we will watch him." 
The plan was executed as arranged, till they killed the kan- 
garoo. The wise old fellow then asked them what part of the 
spoil each would have ; some said the legs, othei*s the tail, &c. 
Mar*s choice was the legs. " No, no, no," M-as the cry, " you 
" take the head, shoulders, and skin." So Mar took away the 
head, shoulders, and skin to his own secret place. The cockatoos 
watched him go home, prepare his meat for roasting, get string- 
bark and grass and lay them on ttie ^OAmdi t^\jA^ \sst\v^Q&iais^\ 


and they observed him scratch his head with his claws, and fire 
came out of his red crest. A little cockatoo volunteered to go 
and steal the fire from the Mar. He crept away cautiously 
through the grass till he came near the coveted fire. He put a 
.grasstree stick to the fire, and, unnoticed by Mar, lit it and 
flew away to his fellows. The cockatoos were overjoyed at 
having at last found out the art of obtaining fire ; but Mar was 
enraged, and went and set the grass on fire, and burnt the whole 
country from Mount Schanck to Guichen Bay. The " croom '' 
(musk duck), enraged at the burning of his country, clapped 
and shook his wings, and brought the water that fills the lakes 
and swnmps. 

WTiy the Emit has Short Wings. 

The emu and the turkey were very friendly. Their families 
played together, and lived together sometimes. The emu made 
a large fire, and asked the *' laay" (turkey) to bring her children 
and kill them, and then she (the emu) would kill hcr's, and they 
would have a grand dinner. The simple '* laay" killed all her 
children, roasted them at the fire, and they ate them. Then 
came the emu's turn to kill her children ; but she refused, and 
hid them. After a time the *- laay" made friends with the emu 
again, and invited her to come to Merrigpena, told her what 

food wings she had, and that she could brush the ashes with 
er wings. The emu followed to Merrigpena, and put her wings 
to clear the fire away ; but she burned them down to a stump. 
Thus was the emu rewarded for telling a lie by having her 
wings shortened. 

Origin of MacDonnell Bay. 

At one time, it is said, the land Extended southward as far as 
the eye could carry from the spot on which the township of 
Port MacDonnell now stands. A splendid forest of eyergreen 
trees, including a wattle out of which oozed a profusion of 

. delicious gum, and a rich carpet of beautiful flowers and 
grass, grew upon it. A man of great height, fearful in his 
anger and a terror to trespassers on this favored ground, was the 

. owner. One hot summer's day, whilst talking a walk through 


his land, he saw at the foot of the wattle-tree a basket full of 
gum. His an^er rose, and in his rage, with a voice like thunder, 
he cried, " Who is robbing me of my food ?** Looking up he 
saw a woman concealed among the boughs, and in a loud voice 
commanded the thief to come down. Trembling, she obeyed, 
and pleaded for her life. He was relentless, and told her he 
would drown her for robbing him. Filled with rage he seated 
himself on the grass, extended his right leg towards Cape 
Northumberland (Kinneang) and his left towards Green 
Point, raised liis aims above his head, and in a giant voice called 
upon the sea to come and drown the woman. The sea advanced, 
covered his beautiful land, and destroyed the offending woman. 
It returned no more to its former bed, and thus formed the 
present coast of MacDonnell Bay. 

Tlie Eiul of the Last of the Giants. 

A man while out hunting l^f t his wife at a temporary camping- 
place. On his return he saw traces which led him to conclude 
that the giant Brit-ngeal had carried her off. He tracked the 
giant, and found the partially eaten body of his wife. Close by 
was a deep narrow-mouthed cave, out of Which the giant got 

. water, and beside it lay the long drinking reed. The man got 
up into a tree that overhung the cave, having first crushed the 
reed to make it useless for its purpose. Presently the giant 
came to eet a drink. He lowered the end of the reed into the 
cave, and tried to suck up the water, but he drew up nothing 
but air. He bit a piece off the end, but with the same result. 

.He bit a piece more off, but again failed to obtain water. He 
repeated the same experiment ; but to reach the water now he 

,had to bend his head aud shoulders right down into the hole. 

,In doing so he exposed his only weak part to the watcher in 
the tree, who jumped down, struck his spear into the giant, and 
shoved him head first into the cave. And in this mannei^ the 
last of the giants met his death. 

Tennateov^ (tlie Devil), 

Wirmal, Baringial, and Daroo were three good men. Tenna- 
teona was a very wicked man, of a very savage nature. He 


murdered men, women, and children, it was said, and was a 
perfect terror to the blacks. Some, to. save their lives, laid 
themselves on ant heaps and let the ants cover their bodies as 
if dead, to avoid his cruelty. The three good men consulted 
together how they were to rid the earth of this monster, and 
they agreed to kiU him. One day they found him sleeping, 
killed him, and burned his body to ashes ; and they had peace 

Baringial made the sun, moon, stars, sea, and land, and 
the blacks were afraid of his auger. Baringial asked Wirmal 
and Daroo the question, *' How long would the dead lie in 
"their graves?" The two good men agreed that if a man 
had two wives living, he must lie two days ; but a bird called 
** gillen" (magpie) perched on a high branch of a gum tree, 
and cried, ** No, no, no ; leave the dead in the earth till it turns 
** to earth. The spirit goes to the land in the sea, where the sun 
" rises, and never comes back to earth." Wirmal said all the 
blacks that did not kill their spirits would go to the land in the 

The Wreck of the ''Maria:* 

The following is the Booandik version of the wreck of the 
Maria, near Kmgston, and other early events in the history of 
this district : — 

About thirty miles from Guichen Bay, near the site of the 
present townsnip of Kingston, is the Maria Ci-eek,. so called 
because the ship Maria was wrecked on the adjacent coast. 
My information respecting this sad event I gleaned from three 
native women. Pendowen (referred to elsewhere in this work) 
said she saw the " oorincai-to" (ship ; literally, big house) and 
was afraid ; she hid behind some bushes, and watched the 
" coomimor" (white folks). "Big one di*ual" (large number 
of blapks) came like sheep to see the " oorincarto." She saw 
white women going away west. She also saw blacks stealing 
goods, but did not know any more about "coomimor paron" 
(many whites there). 

An aged and very intelligent woman gave me the following 
account : — " Heard about big one whaleboat. Aly children and 
*' many more of the Booandik went to see white men. I went 




too, and was yery frightened. Saw plenty, plenty things (that 
she could not name). We were very hungry. We eat flour — 
that was very good ; like flouryrroot. Did not make * bubble 
' bubble' (bread); eat it dry. Picaninny belonging to me die. 
Many of the children died ; must have been the flour. I did 
not bury the children. Wliite man went to the west." The 
old creature cried as the recollection passed through her mind. 

Kiddie-burner informed me that he went with a great number 
of "coomimor" (white women) and children to Yakile (Salt 
Creek), as guide ; that they gave him a gun, and kept him 
ahead to show them the nratd. He had to turn back at Salt 
Greek for fear of the Coorong blacks. 

Others have said they saw the ship on the sea in a great 
storm for two days, and that the wind drove her on shore. 

I have heard the natives express a very kindly feeling towards 
the poor shipwrecked sailors, remarking, " We did not kill 
" them." The figure-head of the vessel was a great curiosity 
among them after the whites le{t. They say a white man went 
and caught one of the Mootatunga blacks, and handed him by 
the neck near the scene of the wreck. A little girl, pointed 
out to me as the daughter of the murdered man, burst into tears 
on over-hearing us speak of the circumstance. 

First Ship at Rivoli Bay. 

About the year 1822 or 1823 the first ship was seen by the 
natives in Rivoli Bay. Some of them thought it was a dr^ng 
island, and all who saw it became alarmed, and began to think 
of a hiding-place. Mothers with their children secured them- 
selves in some safe retreat, while others courageously watched 
the movements of this strange visitor. One morning some of 
the women went along the beach for shellfish, and returning 
were surprised by two white men. In running away one of 
the women dropped her child, and, on stppping to pick it up, 
was captured and taken away to the ship. About tlirce months 
after the ship put into Guichen Bay, and the woman took op- 
portunity to escape, taking with her some clothing. She reached 
the Narrow Neck, and came across a posse oi her countrywomen 
lamenting her loss. She did not' give a very favorable account 


of the treatment she received from the crew. Even as late as 
1846 the black women, in speaking of this event, made all sorts 
of grimaces signifying disgust! /ilie woman's son (Pancby, 
brother of John Ball) related the story to me, adding, *'*' I ao 
** not know the truth myself, but just what I was' told by 
"druai:» J' ' J : 

First Cattle and Horses seen by the Jfatives. 

Pendowen, Neenimin, and Barakbouranu, my favorite old 
women, gave me an interesting account of the first sheep, cattle, 
and horses seen by them. They said that '' one night a party of 
^* blacks were encamped on the range between Mount Muirheail 
*' and Guichen Bay, and were greatly frig'htene^ by a shock of 
*^ earthquake" ('mondle m'reafl;' liteiully, thunder in the 
^oimd). One of them asked me, "Did you hear it y" I said? 
" Ko. We were in Scotland at .the time, far, far from this 
"country.** ** Oh," she exclaimed, clasping her hands, ** we 
"were all frightened ; the ground shook ; we grasped one 
"another by the ,hand, and cried " We will be kiUed. Even 
the birds were screaming out with: fear. When daylight came 
we heard a ghost calling out, ' Miae, mae, mae-a-ae,' and we 
were afraid. One of our men went to see where the ghost 
" was. He came back and told us he did not know what it 
was: he could not cbifipare the great thing to anything in 
the country, We had a peep through the bushes, and saw 
what we now know to have been sheep, cattle, and horses, 
and a dray. The bullocks' bellowing was a terror to us. We 
saw the tracks of the cattle, sheep, and horses, and coi^d not 
imagine what it could be that made them. We followed thepi 
"for days, till they camped near the Salt Creek. We mustered 
" pretty strongly here, and appointed a * cranky * fellow to visit 
" the white men ; and they gave him a sheep's head, which he 
" brought back. It was a great curiosity, and we examined it 
all— ; teeth, mouth, eyes, and ears— -ai^d sent the *cranky* fellow 
back again. ,He brought back a shoulder of mutton this time, 
and some damper. We tasted tlie mutton, and found it very 
good ; but we buried the damper, as we were afraid of being 
poisoned. We were very muqli afraid of the bellowing of the 



. i 






" cattle ; we took it tor an expression of rage, and were afraid 
" to go near them lest they would bite us." However, they 
managed to steal a sheep in the night, and took it away 
to their camp, half a nme from the white men. To spear 
the bullocks and horses was the next attempt. They speared 
one horse, and the rest galloped hack to the camp, which 
raised the alarm ; and the whites came out, fired a gun, and 
pursued a number of the blacks into the swamp, where they 
remained all the night in the water. After the wtute men went 
away the natives went back to the lire, and found one of their 
men shot dead. 




|itiperBtition0, SSittkmtft, 'Sec. 

Idea of the Hereafter— WitcJicraft— Dreaming' 



jHEIR notions of the hereafter are few and vague. 
They say their "bo-ong" (spirit) after death would 
go **kan ngaro" (up above), where everything is to 
be found better than on earth. A fat kangaroo is said, 
by way of praise, to be perfect, like the kangaroo of 
the clouds. They had no object of worship that I could dis- 

The following legend is suggestive of a power to punish, but 
they have now forgotten the personality of such a power : — 
^' Bulingmar^ '' and his family were encamped near the site 
of some remarkable rocks, eighteen miles from Mount Gambier. 
One of his dogs, while gnawing some bony fragments, got a 
piece fast in its throat. Bulingmar^ did not attempt to re- 
lieve the poor brute, and it died; when its master and his 
family were immediately transformed into that mass of rock 
now kno\\ii as the Up and Down Rocks. 

One of the boys at the Home caugKt a severe cold, and 
was very ill. The women made a great noise about him, and 
wanted to take him away. The pangal came and asked him 
whom he supposed had "mullad" him, i.e., bewitched him. 
The boy said he was playing with another black boy, and they 
disputed about something. The strange boy threatened to 
speak to the "Wirr" to bewitch him. I reasoned on the 
matter with the doctor, making him aware of the fact that the 

^^■^— ^ ^ ^ 

■ ' t- i 


boy was not away from us for months, and could not therefore 
have been in the company of blackfellows. It was of no use. 
He insisted that he knew more about it than any white woman. 
He declared he understood the thing perfectly, and commenced 
work. He stripped the sick boy naked, and felt him all over 
for the sore parts. He then took a cloth and washed his whole 
body with cold water, biting and sucking the sore parts till the 
poor child's cries were most heartrending. Mr. Smith went to 
rescue the boy, and rebuked the doctor for such savage cruelty: 
a sarcastic laugh was the only answer. Then the doctor, com- 
manding the boy to stand up on his feet and stretch out his 
arms, pronounced him cured, lliree of the blacks were looking 
on, and confirmed it. Bits of flesh and bone were shown to the 
boy as haying come out of his body. The boy informed his 
father when he returned from huntmg, that the white man's 
medicine was better than the biting of the pangal. " Ah, yes,'' 
the father said, " both very good." 

To dream of a woman brmgs on disease ; but if the woman 
dreamed of sponges the dreamer all over with cold water, it will 
coimteract the effects of the dream. I lq;iow myself of a case in 
point. A young man named Comrat was very ill. When I 
attended hmi he attributed his illness to having dreamed of see- 
ing and loving a woman of the tribe. She sat beside him, and 
looked so kindly at him, that she won his heart. When he 
awoke next day he sent for her ; but she woidd have nothing to 
say to him. All my reasoning coidd not shake his opinion 
that this was the cause of his illness. He entreated me to go 
and ask the young woman to sponge him. I thought that if 
she could be got to wash him his imagination might help him 
to overcome the disease. I accordingly went to the young 
woman's wurla, and asked her to go and do the needful; 
but she refused, saying, " You say it is wrong, and yet you ask 
** me to go and do it: how is that?" I tried to explain my 
idea; but she either could not or would not understand me — 
and poor (Comrat died. 

When the laughing-jackass sends forth his discordant '* ha, 
*' ha, ha," the picaninnies have sot to hold their hands above 
** their heads and dance, and at the same time sing *' Bup, bup, 
•• bup, we'll all grow up to be men and women." Should they 
fairl to do this their growth is stopped. 


** Do yoa know what that is tied to that stick ?* said a black- 
fellow to me one d&j^ pointing to a weapon in a hut. ^ No ; 
«V what is it ?" I aske£ '' It's the hair of a dead man," was the 
answer. ** Untie it and let me see it ?" I requested. . ** No, no, 
** I am afraid," he said, and then went out and called his uncle 
in to show it to me. The imcle imtied it, and displayed to my 
view a quantity of human hair spun into yams, and well daubed 
over witii ochre and grease. *' What's the use of it?" I asked. 
He replied that by tying some of it round a '' prahm " (a 
wooden rod) it wfnud turn away lightnine. It is used by them 
for catchmg. ducks. By burning a small portion of it between 
some light^ bark near where the ducks are, the smoke that 
arises stupifies the birds and renders them unconscious of danger, 
and they approach so near the shore that they become an easy 
pre^ to the hunter. 

The pangal, or doctor, is supposed to have intercourse 
with the d^id — the people in the sky, and is supposed to visit 
them. I knew a very smart intcUiu'cnt young fellow, named 
Katawar, who was a pangal. ^19 usual mode of pro- 
ceeding, was as follows :— -He would let it be known that he 
was going to .visit the skies at such a time, which was usually 
on a dark night. At the appointed time everybody gathered at 
the rendezvous. He commands the^l to bow their faces to the 
ground ; none are to look around. He then puts out the fire, 
dead silence reigning, and stealthily climbs a tree. Then disr 
euising his voice^ he calls the name of soine dead person, and 
immediately changes the sound of his voice again as if the 
person whose name he called was answering him, ^* What 
'< name you want ?" After some conversation he throws down 
so^ie damper, tobacco, and pipes, and drops with a heavv bump 
out of the tree, making the simple people at the foot beheve he 
has dropped from the sky, and that the tbbacco, &c., had come 
from the same place ! 

Part ISecond. 

' o»» 






SbauQxliBation nxtb (Eibilteation. 

ffT is a general opinion among Europeans that the abori- 
I gines of Australia are too low, intellectually and 
morally, to be either Christianised or civilised. That 
this is an entirely erroneous belief is abimdantly proved 
by the successful efforts that have been made to improve 
them at the several mission stations in South Australia, 
and by the success which, under God's blessing, attended 
Mr. Smith's efforts and my own among the Booandik tribe 
since 1845. True it is, they do not possess the mental 
strength and grasp of the average European, but they are 
capable of a high degree of culture; and their moral and 
religious nature is not too dead to be revivified by the warmth 
and elevating power of the religion of Jesus. As they profess 
no proper system of religion, the missionary amongst them 
meets no false ideas to overturn — ^no vain goos to overthrow ; 
and they realise with sufficient keenness the hieurdships and 
privations of their present existence to grasp earnestly the 
divine promise of a better life beyond. But the intercourse of 
the natives with the European colonists has been their ruin in 
the South-East, as elsewhere. They have generally adopted 
the worst vices of the superior race, and the residts are swift 
and terrible. Unable to accommodate themselves to their 
altered conditions of life, they have become more susceptible to 
disease than before their country was invaded by the white 
man ; and this fact, aided by drink and infanticide, has nearly 
extinguished the once numerous and fine race of aborigines that 
peopled this district. 



Our own efforts for the benefit of the aborigines of this 
district were blessed to a degree that surprised even ourselves. 
Mr. Smith and myself arrived with our family at Gh-eytown, 
Rivoli Bay South, in January, 1845 ; and as the blacks were 
numerous in the locality, we very soon made their acquaintance. 
Mr. Smith was a man of great zeal in the cause of Christ ; he 
had a true missionary spirit, and was not slow to avail himself 
of the opportunity which presented itself to preach to them 
Jesus. We remained at Rivoli Bav ten years — Mr. Smith 
acting for two years as agent for his brother-in-law, and for 
eight years as postmaster and agent for the South Australian 
Company and some settlers inland. During nearly the whole 
of that time we exerted ourselves to benefit the natives in a 
spiritual way ; and Mr. Smith, at the request of Dr. Moorhouse 
(the then Protector of Aborigines), visited and reported on the 
condition of those employed on the stations in the interior. 
We received no food nor blankets for them, but Mr. Smith was 
not unmindful of any cases of want that came under his notice, 
as the following extract from one of his letters to Dr. Moor- 
house, dated August 9th, 1850, will show : — 

^* I have always been kind to the aborigmes, which they will testify when 
** asked. When in Adelaide last January, 1 bought four hundredweight of 
''biscuits from the siurplus stores of a passenger ship called the Asiatic, 
" which I have served out to the natives. We have also a boiling down 
** establishment here ; and many of the settlers in the district think uttle of 
** giving the natives a bag or two of flour and half a dozen sheep or calves 
'* to enable them to make merry at ni^ht. Most of the settlers having 
'* cattle stations, kill the heifer calves, which they give to the blacks. • • • * 
'' They not only get flour and bread here, but plenty of beef and mutton. 
'* May I ask if the Government allow the natives of Guichen Bay any 
« animal food ? If not, you are far behind in liberality. We who Uve in 
'* this district anticipate the Government and their officers. There is one 
'' thing the natives are sadly in need of here, viz., education. It may be 
" truly said of them, * No man careth for their souls.' " 

The following extract from a report sent by Mr. Smith to 
the Protector in April, 1851, furnishes an idea of the condition 
of the natives in the district at that time : — 

** Dear Sir^ Agreeably to promise, I have visited most of the stations in 

" the district, and have to inform you that the natives belonging to the Rivoli 

** Bay tribe [Booandik] are all quiet, and most of them usefully employed in 

« pne way or another by the settlers. Mr. Leake informed me that he has 

^ about 18,000 Bbeep shepherded by the natives at ^xoBsiit. kt the cattle 


Qu«en Caroline. 


*' stations some of the young men are employed as assistants to the stock- 
" keepers. We endeavor to instruct them in their duty to each other and the 
" Europeans. They are very cautious now of giving offence. I am sorry to 
** ray that infanticide has been and is still practised among the natives here. 
" We have no means of making an example of one to deter others. The 
** females, when near their confinement, generally retire to the bush, followed 
** by one or more females as assistants. No men are allowed to be present on 
" these occasions. When the child is bom, it is generally killed by one of the 
** native women in attendance. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ Mrs. Smith nas promised to give 
" all the lubras a blanket who will preserve their children olive. I am also 
" sorry to say that the relations existing between the native women and the 
" Europeans are very discreditable." 

Shortly after we got settled we saw a crowd of blackfellows 
approaching the hut. Mr. Smith at once brought some tobacco 
and pipes out of the storehouse, and taking the baby from me, 
went out to meet them. I was too terrified to know what to 
do. Something had to be done, however, and I got two of the 
youngest children — the eldest had disappeai*ed — and locked 
them up in the store, and then went for the gun, which, 
unfortunately, was broken. I thought it would perhaps serve 
to frighten them, and so I brought it out and stood at the door 
with it. The sable crowd stood around Mr. Smith, jabbering 
and feeling the baby all over, while he was endeavoring to 
teach them the filthy habit of smoking. We had an old horse 
we called Rodney — which we kept tethered near in order that, if 
attacked, our eldest boy might ride to one of the nearest stations 
for help ; the nearest was about fifteen miles distant. When 
he saw the blacks coming, he slipped off, mounted the horse, 
and came riding up to the door at full gallop. As soon as the 
blackfellows saw this to them strange animal, they vanished 
into the bush, and we did not see one for months afterwards ; 
thoush we lived in continual dread of them coming upon us 
in tine night and murdering us. Our trust was in God. 
My attitude, standing at the door of the hut vnih a *' bung 
" bung " (as they called the gun) in my hand, made a gi*eat 
impression on the savages, and they remember it to this day. 
The old men often tell by the camp fire their first sight of a 
" witchinear " (white woman). They told me afterwards, when 
we were on friendly terms with them, that they were terribly 
afraid when they saw the horse, as they feared it woidd pursue 
them and bite them. 


Some time after this occurrence, Mr. Smith was at Mr. 
Leake's station on biisiness, and on his way home he heard 
a terrific noise at some distance from the track. He rode 
in that direction, and beheld a curious and melancholy scene* 
A woman was lying dead on the ground, and an infant, 
apparently about eleven months old, sucking at her breast, 
while around were men and women howling, yelling, shrieking, 
tearing their hair, and plastering themselves over with mud. 
After the body was buried with the usual ceremonies, Mr. 
Smith told them his white lubra would nurse the child for 
them. They replied that the father was not present, but as 
soon as he came they woidd tell him what Mr. Smith said. He 
had, therefore, to be satisfied with that and left them. As he was 
riding along home, meditating on the depraved condition of the 
aborigines, and blessing the Providence that had placed him 
among them and enabled him to preach the Gospel of glad 
tidings to them, there leaped out 01 the teatree scrub two tall 
and naked savages, armed \nth spears and shields. Their long 
matted hair and beards gave them a most ferocious appearance. 
They cried " Bacca, bacca, bipe " (probably *^® ^^ty words of 
English they were acquainted with, and very likely those they 
did not imderstand). Mr. Smith pointed in the direction of 
Rivoli Bay, and rode on ; but seeing that they followed him, he 
turned back and motioned to them to lead, thinking that if he 
was to have their company it was better to preserve a full view 
of them in case of treachery. In this way he reached home. 
I was much sui*})rised to see my husband ariive with such an 
escoii;, and very thankful that he had got home at all. Mr. 
Smith then told them, partly by signs and broken words 
in the drual tongue, about the woman and child. One of the 
men gave us to understand that he was the widower, but he 
showed no sorrow at his bereavement. We then asked him 
for the child, to bring it up ; and he consented to let us take it, 
on condition that we should allow it to ret\im to the tribe when 
it grew up, counting on his fingers at the same time and ' 
pointing to the sun. We understood that he would bring us 
the child in eleven days; and at the end of that time he 
came, accompanied by all his wives and children and the 
motherless child, which he delivered up to me. I took charge 
of the poor thing (it was a boy), and washed, dressed, and placed 


it ill a cradle, which pleased them very much. The father 
again expressed his desire to have the boy back when he grew 
up, and after getting some tobacco and pipes, went away. 

Almost every one who heard of our haying adopted the child 
wondered at our foolishness, as they termed it, when we had so 
many children of our own, and of our being so attentive to a 
Uttle " black devU !" 

It was at this time that the idea occurred to me to open a 
" home ** for the black children, where they would be educated 
and instructed in the Gospel of Christ. Little Nathaniel — for 
80 my husband called the boy — ^was not a very prepossessing 
child; he had a broad nose, wide mouth, small eyes, and a 
projecting chin. He became very much attached to me, and to 
us all. He was delicate, and sometimes seemed to be in great 
pain, and, strange to say, would not take the sago or arrowroot 
I prepared for mm — preferring the native roots. He gradually 
pined away, and breathed his last in my arms at about the age 
of fourteen months. Despite this untoward circumstance, we 
trusted in God to bless our efforts to bring souls to Christ. 

In August, 1853, my son, Duncan Stewart, was appointed 
native interpreter for this district by the Government, at a 
salary of £60 per annum. In those days an interpreter was an 
absolute necessity in the trials of natives in the Criminal Court 
in Adelaide. My son had acted in this capacity as early as the 
beginning of 1848, when only fourteen years of age, and his 
thorough acquaintance with the native tongue elicited warm 
commendation from Mr. Smiley, Advocate-General, in a letter to 
His Excellency the Governor. 

Whilst at Rivoli Bay we gained the fullest confidence of our 
sable neighbors by means of kindness to-, and honest dealing 
with them; and the following short narrative will prove to 
what an extent I could trust myself unprotected to their care : — 

I received a message from Mr. Mclntyre, of Mount Schanck, 
that a family I had known in Scotland had arrived at his 
station, and that they desired to see me. The desire was 
reciprocal. To shake hands and talk with one who had talked 
with my mother in far-away Scotland, was a pleasure not to be 
delayed on any consideration. I arranged my domestic affairs, 
and got a blackfellow and his lubra to guide me through the 


At dawn of day I started on foot to the place where I was to 
meet my guides, Pendowr and Calluin. The idea of my 
travelling cuone through the bush with them seemed to amuse 
them very much, for they received me with shouts of laughter. 
"What white people say when they hear you travel with 
" drual, you white lady ?*' As we progressed, on our journey 
they asked me to call them brother and sister when talking to 
them, which I did after that. Calluin was laden with an 
immense bundle, consisting of old rugs, teapot, crockery, and 
old boots (what she wanted with them I couldn't make out), 
damper, tea, sugar, &c. They gave me a " canna" to support 
me and kill snakes with, should we come across any of those 
reptiles. At midday we halted. Pendowr made a fire ; we got 
water from a lagoon, and the billy was soon boiling. While 
we were discussing dinner I observed, coming towards us, a 
blackfellow, armed with spears and shield. I pointed him out 
to Calluin, who said, " Don't speak ; but sit close to me. We 
*' will take care he doesn't hui-t you." Wliilc she was speaking 
he had come up to us, for he walked at a grcUt rate. He stood 
his spears up against a tree, and one he stuck in the ground. 
No salutation passed between him and Pendowr. He stood 
there glaring at us in a most ferocious manner. I was 
frightened; he seemed to turn me to stone. Presently he 
broke out into a fit of laughter, and said, " Why you not wait 
" till I come >vith you ? We will not hurt you, sister." Just 
then the men saw a kangaroo, and gave chase, but lost it. 
Calluin then received her orders to camp that night at Crumbel, 
about fifteen miles from the bay ; and the two men then went on 

Just at sundown we got to Crumbel, and found a fire lit, wood 
chopped, and water in the billy ready to put on the fire. After 
tea my guides made a breakwind of green branches of trees, and 
dried grass was gathered for me to lie on. 

Several young men, on their way to Crumbel swamp to catch 
ducks, observing the smoke from our camp fire, came see who 
we were. They all shook hands with us heartily, and asked if I 
liked to walk with my sister and brother in their country. 
They were very much pleased at my son (the interpreter) 
learning the Booandik tongue. Calluin said the young 
drual were going to kill ducks for the white mother. Each 


one made up a bundle of sticks, and disappeared in the dark, 
among the bushes, to the lagoons, where the ducks had ''turned 
" in " for the night. The drual made a great noise ; and as 
the eame rose on the wing, the hunters threw the sticks at them 
and brought them down. Pendowr and Calluin asked me to go 
and see the sport; and on my consenting they gave me a waddy, 
telling me when I saw them falling to the ground I was to kill 
them. But I was more intent on saving my head than killing 
ducks, which caused great merriment among the hunters. We 
then returned to camp, Calluin laughine till her sides ached at 
the recollection of my awkwardness in handling the waddy. 
They tried to amuse me as well as they could ; and as I had my 
Testament with me, I told them the story of Jesus and of the 
happy land. Calluin and I had a breakwind to ourselves, and 
Pendowr took good heed that I was not disturbed. 

Next morning seven young men came to our camp and made 
us presents of a pair of ducks each for our breakfast and 
journey, for which I expressed my thanks. They asked me 
now I liked to sleep in a wurla, and said I was not like other 
white women, afraid of the drual. I trusted them, and they 
would never forget it. They promised to visit me at Willijam 
(Rivoli Bay), and when they had bade me good-bye we pro- 
ceeded on o\ir journey. It was a beautiful day, and I enjoyed 
myself thoroughly. My guide talked much about the treatment 
the blacks received from the early settlers ; how when they 
kiUed a sheep-which was merely laUxlgame in their eyes, j J 
the same as kangaroos, or emus, or any animal fit for food — they 
were hunted and shot down like dogs. 

. We came to " Taman Taman," and camped for the nisht. 
Next day we came to a shepherd's hut on Benaira station, 
where I was very kindly received. My thankful heart praised 
Gk>d for His goodness in bringing me thus far on my journey 
without mishap. Here I left my kind friends Pendowr and 
Calluin, as they were exhausted — ^he with watching, and she with 
carrying the " swag " ; but they procured for me a female, who 
took me to Mount Schanck, where I met my son (the interpreter) 
and my kind friends from Scotland. 

I remained a fortnight at the Schanck, and after a loving 
good-bye I started home with my guide. We could not con- 
verse much, as she did not know any English. After walking 


till nearly sundown I was getting very tired, and wished to sit 
down on a log and rest for a bit ; but she looked suUen, pouted 
her lips, and yabbered at a great rate. She uttered the word 
''muitboy" very often, till I wondered what it meant. I 
resolved to keep it in mind, and ask Pendowr when I saw him ; 
but I began to be seriously alarmed at my giiide's conduct. 
She seemed to have wrought herself into a great rage. She had 
a bag carrying with her : this she flung to the ground savagely, 
and demanded white money, my bonnet, my dress, my shawl — 
putting her hand on them. I shook her off, and she diiBappeared 
in the bush. It was now dusk, and I was at my wit's end ; but 
God was my ^de. The welcome barking of dogs directed me 
to my kind friends on Benaira station ; and very thankful I was 
when safely housed for the night. Goorminap was my treach- 
erous guide's name ; and her sisters punished her for her 
conduct by giving her several blows on the back with a 
canna. I subsequently learned the meaning of the word 
"muitboy." A certain woman of the Booandik tribe had 
been famed for her hospitality and G;oodne88, and her name 
was held in respect and reverence oy all tlie coast tribes. 
They told me she had lost one of her great toes, and had died 
'* mangyoon " (long, long ago), and they believed that I was 
** muitboy," i,e. "jumped up a white woman." In vain I showed 
them both my feet, and that I had my full complement of toes : 
in vain I told them I was bom on an island sixteen thousand 
miles from this place. No; I was ^'muitboy" or I was 
nobody — ^and as it was very evident I was somebody, it naturally 
followed that I was " muitboy " ; and so I had to let it be. I 
eot Pendowr and Calluin to guide me home, and arrived there 
m safety. 

The following incident, which occurred in 1846, will show 
that the natives — even in their wildest state — were not insensible 
to feelines of hmnanity; and that, although constantly shot 
down and exasperated to the last degree by many of the early 
settlers, they sometimes obeyed (without being taught) the com- 
mand of the gracious Saviour of all mankind — " Do good to 
" them that hate you, who despitefully use you, and persecute 
" you ":— 

A young man at MacFarlane's Station, Mount Mclntyre, was 
taken ill. He gave up his situation in consequence, and started 



to walk to Guichen Bay Police Station. At that time the 
natives of the South-East were a continual source of dread to 
the settlers; nobody thought of travelling without fire-arms. 
However, this man reasoned thus with himself, *' If I stay here, 
I will die certainly. If I make for Guichen Bay, I have a 
chance, however slight, of getting there, and then I have a 
" chance of getting cured.'' He made up his swag and started, 
got to Reedy Creek without meeting anyone, and there camped. 
Next day he felt very bad, and was falling every two or three 
yards, being so weak. He rested for a short time, when he 
heard the crack of a stockwliip. He started up and made the 
best of his way to where the sound came from, thinking it 
would lead him to some white man ; but, to his horror, he met 
a wild ferocious-looking blackf ellow, attired in an old blue shirt 
only. " Now," thought he, " I am done for." He went up to the 
black and spoke to him, pointed in the direction he came from, 
and where he was going to. Two more natives then made their 
appearance, with a boy. "Blue-shirt" told the boy to guide the 
white man ; but he just then put his hand in his pocket, for his 
handkerchief. The natives fled, thinking he was feeling for his 
" bung bung " (pistol) ! He moved on, stumbling and falling 
every few steps, wondering what could have made the blacks 
" bolt " so suddenly, and thinking he was very lucky to get rid 
of them so easily, when Blue-shirt came up to him agam and 
made him rest his hand on his (Blue-shirt's) shoulder. Gently 
and patiently did this " ferocious cannibal " help the poor fellow 
along. He guided him to the natives' track, which was easier 
walking than through the scrub. He gathered native figs for 
him when the damper was finished. When night came on, he 
signed to him to lie down under a tree, then rolled him in his 
blanket, and signed to him to go to sleep ; and at the end of six 
or seven days left him within a few himdred yards of Mr. 
Gifford's out-station. He would not go any closer to the hut: 
he only shook his head, and said " Bung Dung ! " Who will 
say, after this, that the natives are utterly depraved, and 
incapable of being Cliristianised ? 

In the end of 1864 we removed to Mount Gambler, where 
Mr. Smith had purchased a farm. A few months after our 
arrival he opened a private school, just above the cave which 
now occupies the centre of the town. This he kept for about 


nxteen months, when, finding the demands of his farm press 
urgently upon him, he gave it up, and confined his attention in 
an educational way to a night school for adults. Amongst his 
pupils at both schools were several half-caste children, whom 
he at first maintained at his own expense. The Government 
subsequently allowed a small sum for clothing and victual- 
ling them. 

On January 4th, 1860, in the midst of his efforts for the 
improvement of the condition of the unfortunate aborigines of 
this district, Mr. Smith died; but, Qod strengthening me, I 
carried on to the best of my ability the work that laid so near 
to my dear husband's heart. In my humble efforts I was ably 
assisted by that excellent gentleman and sincere Christian, the 
Lord Bishop of Adelaide (Dr. Short), and a number of charitable 
residents at Mount Qambier. The establishment of an Aborigines' 
Home, a wish that Mr. Smith and I had cherished for many 
vears, was at length realised. In July, 1865, the Lord Bishop, 
having at his disposal certain funds which were given by an 
English lady for the improvement of the aborigines of South 
Australia, obtained a lease for seven years, at a peppercorn 
rental, of an acre of ground from the trustees under Mr. 
Smith's will, the lessee engaging during the term to erect and 
finish a substantial stone building for the purposes of on 
Aborigines' Home and school. The building was erected in the 
same year, and I and my family took charge of the Home. 
We labored hard for our less privileged fcllow-creatiires, and 
a large number of the young availed themselves of the 
advantages it presented. The Home was supported by funds 
supplied by the Lord Bishop, and a weekly allowance of hye 
shillings each for the native children granted by the Govern- 
ment. The following extract from the report for the first half 
of 1867, addressed to the Venerable Archdeacon Twopeny, 
affords a good idea of the nature of the work carried on : — 

** Sir — I have the honor to report to you, for the information of the Lord 
** Bishop of the diocese, that our Ahoriginal Home continues to increase in 
'^ usefulness, and no less than eight chilaren have heen added to our numhers 
** during the present year. There are now sixteen children and young 
** persons who make this place their home, viz. — half-castes, nine girls and 
** three hoys ; and black children, three boys and two girls — and they are 
** of various ages, ranging from five to sixteen years. Four of the eldest 
^^girh are generally out at service, but they always return to the Home in 


** caae of uckness and want of employment. Since the beginning of this 
"year thirteen rick and infirm adults have availed themselves of the 
** advantages of the Home, and received Grovemment rations from us, and 
" also meoical comforts under the kind able treatment of Dr. Peel, the 
" Assistant Colonial Surgeon. Whenever a dispute or quarrel occurs in any 
** of the tribes, it invariably happens that some of the weaker ones have to 
"come to the Home for protection, and remain there until matters have 
" been amicably settled. The native parents and guardians now give up the 
** children more willingly than they did some time ago. They now see that 
'* the children who have been some vears under my charge have been greatly 
** benefited, both in a worldlv and in a religious sense ; and the mother of 
" four of the children recently added to our numbers requested in her dying 
" moments that her children should be permanently under my charge, and 
" that they were to receive the education and religious instruction which 
"have hiuerto been imparted to colored children placed in my charge. 
" Other black parents have since followed the example of the dying mother 
" I have mentioned, and brought their children to the Home. 

" The Home is conducted in the following manner : — The mornings and 
" evenings are devoted to religious exercises. No particular form is used, 
" but the prayers are based on Scriptural truth, and conclude with the Lord's 
" prayer and such rimple petitions as '* Gentle Jesus," &c., &c. On Sundays 
" the elder chUdren, except three of the elder girls, are sent to the Churdi of 
" England Sunday School, where they are under your own care, and the 
" younger ones receive religious instruction at home, and take great delight 
" in singing together any favorite hymns started by their teachers. Those 
"who attend me Church of England Sunday School go to church after 
"school is over; and the three girls before-named attend the Wesleyan 
" chapel. 

'* The household matters are conducted in the following manner : — The 
" elder girls act as servants to the younger ones. One is cook ; another is 
*' waitr^, and keeps the Home clean ; a third acts as laundress, and does all 
" the washing and ironing. The food consists of beef, mutton, soup, rice, 
" vegetables, and dairy produce, with tea morning and evening. I nave to 
" provide clothing for them all, and am glad of any little help in the shape 
" of cast-off clothes and other contributions of warm garments suitable for 
"the children. The little ones are provided with all kinds of suitable 
" amusements, and are always very happy and contented." 

The late Rev. Mr. Needhani took a deep interest in the 
Home. He was truly a father to the little black race, by whom 
he was ereatly beloved, and watched over them with a parent's 
solicitude. His death cast a gloom over us which will not 
easily be effaced. The interest taken by Mrs. and Miss 
Nccdliam was also very encouraging. They were as zealous as 
the late Mr. Needham himself, and always showed the deepest 
concern in the welfare of our institution. 


Death, however, found its way amongst our Home inmates, 
and was very severe. The report for the hist six months of 
1867 was much less cheering than that for the first six. In 
August, sickness and death came upon our black people sud- 
demy, and for some time we had one or two funeralB every 
week. The sickness was very general among all the neighbor- 
ing tribes. I supplied manv of them with rations of tea and 
sugar, and called Dr, Peel s attention to those who were in 
need of medical comforts, and they were promptly attended to 
by that gentleman. But while the details of the report were 
in one respect gloomy, in another they were encouraging ; as, 
since the opening of the Home, eight black people had passed 
away, whom I had reasonable hope God accepted into his 
happiness as believers on His Son Jesus Christ. 

The Home was broken up about the end of 1867, in conse- 
quence of the funds in the hands of the Lord Bishop declining; 
but for several years after that we kept four half-castes there, sup- 
porting and educating them by means of a monetary allowance 
m>m Government and the charitable contributions of a few kind 
friends at Mount Gambier. Besides the late Revs. R. W. Need- 
ham and T. N. Twopeny — ^Drs. Peel, Graham, and Clindening, 
and the late Dr. Wehl, and Messrs. W. J. Browne, J. Watson 
(editor of the Border Watch), C. G. Doughty, W. H. Harrald, 
and Mrs. D. Power, deserve to be immortalised (were it in my 
power to do so) for their kindness and liberality towards myself 
and my native charges. As soon as my young natives were old 
enough, they went out to service ; but not before they were 
well grounded in the three Il*s. I have the great pleasure — a 
pleasure that I doubt if anyone else can feel as deeply as I do — 
of knowing that all of the natives who sm-vive who were taught 
in the Home have led honest lives, and are now earning their 
livelihood in service in this district and Victoria, or are married. 
Three of the half-caste ^irls are married to Europeans, and are 
comfortably settled ; and one of the young lads is learning the 
tailoring trade. 





fHE following are a few short memoirs of natives who 
have come under our training at Kiyoli Bay and 
Mount GkuQibier, to whom we pointed out the way 
of salvation. These memoirs wul, I trust, convey a 
better idea of the results of our work among the 
aborigines than any general sketch I can present. 


The following memoir was published, as a pamphlet, in 

Wergon will be long held in sweetest remembrance by 
myself and &mily. Hk parents belonged to the Booandik 
tnbe, and — ^fortunately for himself, perhaps — ^they died whilst 
he was of tender age. Wergon, with his brother, Beuebar, 
were now left to provide for their own maintenance, and there- 
fore roamed the forest and occupied themselves in. himting, 
fishine, &c., as all their forefathers had done. Wergon was of 
a weak and sickly constitution, and was kindly taken care of by 
some charitable European (whose name I am unacquainted 
with) until he was capable of following his tribe. 

LeedLburmen and Lackleeg adopted him as their son, and 
subsequently placed him in my family. I very gladly received 
him — not merely that I might become his bendEactress, but that 

he might become instructor to my son D . I was desirous 

that D should become acquainted with the " drual," or native 

language, that he might be of service to my Divine Master in 
proclaiming His Qospel to the Australian heathen^ should It \^ 


the will of Almighty God to honor him with such an important 
work. I may here mention a circumstance which will no doubt 
seem strange to some of my readers. Previous to their placing 
Wergon imder my care, Leakburmen and Lackleeg had 
betrothed to him their daughter, a child of about five years of 
age, who was to become his lubra when he should attain the 
age of a yoimg man — at which time his beard would be plucked 
out by the older men of his tribe. This painful operation he 
often reverted to with apparent horror. In my opinion he was 
the loveliest of his tribe. His pleasant countenance, mild black 
eyes, and jet black hair, were admired by all who saw him. 
His natural politeness, and a readiness to anticipate our slightest 
wish, soon won the hearts of all my family. To conform to our 
customs, and to make himself agreeable was his chief study : 
he sympathised in our sufferings, and delighted in our hap- 
piness. He was willing to instruct D in the house or by 

the wayside. He was the object of our solicitude, and the 
subject of our daily prayers tnat he might be brought to a 
«« saving knowledge 01 the truths of the Gospel," and be the 
bearer of ** glad tidings " to his own people. 

Wergon often told us of white men offering him bribes to go 
with them, telling him Mr. Smith ** no good ; ' but his imiform 
answer was, ** No ; me like Mr. Smith " — and each of the family, 
mentioning them by name, *' Me no want to go long-a bush — 

" D want me, me stop ; no like too much walk. Me sit 

" down long-a Mr. Smith. No good buUock-driver — say bad 
" word — ^he no good ; no like you. Very good missus — ^very 

" good massa — ^very good D ; learn un drual Booandik like 

" blackfellow." Two black men came once and told him Rivoli 
Bay was not his country, and that he must go with them, or 
they would kill him when he would be alone in the bush. He 
tola us what they had threatened, and we assured him of safety 
if he would not go far from the house. We also rebuked the 
two blacks for their cruel threat, and told them we were anxious 
to keep the black boy that he might instruct o\ir son in their 
language. Wergon appeared to place implicit confidence in our 
promises of safety. One afternoon we were standing at the 
door of our dwelung. Wergon cast quick and timid glances 
towards the road; he said, '* There come drual; one black man 
" there kill mj father.*' With a revengeful air he said, " Me 


*' kill that one blackfellow when me * jump-up' (meaning when 
*' he became a man). That one no good — he want kill me too, 
*' me think." We impressed upon him the fact that Qod would 
be displeased with him even for revenging murder, and that 
such an act would be rewarded with eternal punishment. He 
gave me to understand that their only fear was the policeman, 
with the '* big knife" and " wiggil " (meaning the handcufiEs). 
My son made considerable progress in the native dialect, at 
the same time making use of every opportunity to impress the 
great truths of religion upon the mind of the little savage. We 
found much difficulty in communicating these truths to a dark 
and heathenish mind ; but endeavoring, by uniformity of con- 
duct, to convince him that ours was a religion of truth, we had 
no doubt that God would ultimately crown our efforts with 
glorious success. One day he was sitting by the fireside for 
some time in a pensive mood, his dark eyes fixed on the brilliant 
embers, apparently in deep thought, when he heaved a deep 
sigh, and looked at me as I sat opposite him ; then he said, 
" Missus." " Well, Wergon," I said, " what name." He 
replied, *' Me bad boy, naughty boy me, Missus," and pro- 
c^ded to relate the following incident connected with his 
earHer history :— 

I remember, long time ago, taking my * werren,' and giving 
my mother a blow on the head, which brought her to the 
ground. My father, enraged at such conduct, made after me, 
as I thought to kill me. I ran, expecting every moment to 
fall either by his spear or ' werren;' but fortunately he missed 
his aim. I soon disappeared, and was alone and hungry in 
" the bush, and without fire. Soon after I met with a drual 
" boy, who gave me fire and part of a quail to eat. I remained 
" in the woods many days, and hunted for birds, rats, and 
** lizards to appease my hunger. I began to think of my 
" mother, and thought perhaps she was crying for me. I 
" hunted and killed a few birds to give my father and mother, 
and proceeded on my way home; but fearing lest on my 
return my father should kill me, I used caution. Having 
arrived within sight of my father's ' wurley,' I stood on an 
eminence until my mother saw me. As a sign I was anxious 
** to return, I held up in my hands the birds I had brought. She 
" called me by name, and, with endeaciii!^ ^jwses^Kj YKqS^^. ^aa 






** as her son to return. I did return, and with genuine penitence 
** acknowledged my fault, and sought and obtained pardon. 
** Missus," he sai^ '* your children are good ; you correct 
** them when they do wrong. Drual no beat their children 
•* when *um do wrong — ^no tell 'um they do wrong. Drual say 
" if they beat their children they no grow — ^blackfellow very 
** ignorant, very stupid ; but him no have white woman to tell 
•• him how to train children." 

Wergon now began to think himself superior to his fellows, 
and wished us to give him an English name : therefore, to please 
him, one evening after family worship we gave him the name of 
Peter. After my family had retired to rest I sat with him at 
the fire, and after a few minutes' silence he said, in a plaintive 
tone, ^^ Missus, you think my mother go to hell ?" I was so 
confused and affected by such an inquiry that I could not 
answer him immediately. He therefore continued silent, and 
appeared to muse on eternal realities. When I had recovered 
from the surprise the momentous question had given me, I said 
to him kindly, " Peter, your mother never heard of the Big 
^' Spirit, and therefore could not ask him to take her soul to 
" heaven. The wicked will go to hell — the Big Spirit only 
•* knows where every soul will go." He replied, " Me like 
*< mother to go to * marmanu ' " (Father of us all), and his 
eyes filled with tears, his lips quivered, and his whole frame 
trembled with deep emotion. I observed this dawning of 
intelligence with anxiety, lest his old companions should entice 
him away, and these favorable symptoms should be erased from 
his mind, and perhaps he would be lost to us for ever, as it had 
happened to us in otner instances previously. 

One evening three native boys came to our house, one of 
whom had been sent from a station twelve miles distant, and 
had received strict injunctions to return the following morning. 
On occasions of these visits our custom was to treat them with 
kindness and hospitality, and become their pupils for the time 
being — as my son could better improve by hearing them converse 
in their o^vn dialect. Peter was in high glee, as he could talk 
freely, without being troubled with English phrases, and tell 
his companions of the interest manifested by his master and 

D in the welfare of their people. They sat in amazement, 

scrutinising glances from under their black-haired brows 


on one or other of our fandly, apparently half doubtful as to the 
truthfulness of this intelligence. At last their incredulity 
gained the victory, which dey did not forget to manifest by 
tiieir savage yells, which p;reatiy damped our ardor and cast a 
eloom of temporary despair over all our efforts to reclaim them 
firom a savage and heathen life. 

Mr. Smith read the Holy Scriptures, after which the &mily 
joined in singing several hymns irom Mr. Wesley's collection. 
Our singing was interrupt^ at intervals by the yells of our 
young sable friends. During &mily worship poor Peter always 
enjoined silence on such of ^e natives as happened to be with 
us, telline them " Mr. Smith speak to Big Spirit in the sky." 
The inspired volume, from which we read portions, was to them 
a great curiosity. How we could read and understand the 
contents they could not comprehend. Peter endeavored to 
explain to them that the book told us what to say, and spoke 
about the people in the sky, or those above us. We retired to 
rest, and told them to do the same. The oldest of the boys 
(the one sent from the station) whispered to Peter, " Let us 
bolt, and go to Mayura. I would not stop here. There 
plenty bullocky sit down, get *um plenty tuck-out — here only 
picaninny tuck-out." Towards midnight I heard a rattling of 
pannicans to the tea-kettle, which were succeeded by whispers 
and suppressed yells, mingled with the rolling surf a few paces 
from our dwelling. It appeared evident ttiey had accomplished 
their design. Soon all wus silent, save the rolling surf. I 
therefore arose in haste, and went to the kitchen door. I 
sought, but in vain, for my poor black boy. I called him 
several times by name, and received no reply. I returned to 
my bed with reluctant submission to this, another disappoint- 
ment, and must say that at this time felt extreme pain of mind. 
Yet my own faith in Christ gave me hopes that my labor would 
not be entirely fruitless. I had faint hopes that he would find 
the habits of his old companions distasteful to him, and would 
probably return ; but was resolved in future never to allow my 
mind to become so fully bent on training any of them with 
my family ; but my prayer was, " Lord, my hope is in Thee ; I 
" devote my son to Thy work. O grant that he may be Thy 
" messenger to convey Thy Word to the natives of this our 
•• adopted country." 



I felt lonely in the absence of the little black boy. My 
children were attached to him, and there appeared a something 
wanting — a vacancy in our family circle. The very infant in 
arms appeared to miss him. An occasional visitor said to me 
one day after Peter's disappearance, '* If I were you, Mrs. Smith, 
** I would take the bullock-whip to him, and make the blood 
" stream about his black shanks — it woidd be a lesson he would 
*' not soon forget. You are too kind to him and the rest of the 
** darkies who come about you. They are a set of useless, 
" degraded brutes, imworthy of ;^our care." I expressed my 
disapproval of such a method, and gave my friend to understand 
that I considered they had intellect, well worthy of cultivation, 
and, moreover, souls that would live for ever ; and that if we 
had opportunities of giving them religious instruction, and 
neglected to improve those opportunities, we should have much 
to account for in the day of judgment. 

A few weeks subsequent to the events narrated in the pre- 
ceding pa^e, I and several of the members of my family stood 
upon a hill a short distance from our dwelling, taking a view 

of the surrounding country, when my son G suddenly 

exclaimed, ** Here come two blacks," and D , my eldest 

son, said to me, " Mamma, I think one of them is Peter ; see, 
" he has his blanket over his shoulder, and appears very much 

" fatigued — ^he can hardly walk." D said, *' Mother, I 

'* will disappear, and not speak to him, to show that I am angry 
" with him for going away." I discouraged a manifestation of 
such feelings on his part, and explained to him that an exhibi- 
tion of kindly feeling would be likely to have a far more 
beneficial effect upon him than an appearance of austerity. I 
told my children to sit down on the grass until Peter should 
reach us, that we might see what sort of an explanation he 
would give of his conduct. He approached us slowly, with 
downcast eye. I quickly observed in him a true sign of peni- 
tence, as he threw his blanket on the ground, and exclaimed, in 
deep humility — the tears coursing each other down his cheeks at 

the same time — " Missus, me bad boy — ^me run away ; me hear 
'^ you call after me, and black boy tell me no speak. He told 
me that his companions told him a lie, and thereby had deceived 
him, as they could get nothing to eat at Maynra. He said to 
them he would return to Mrs. Smith, at Rivoli Bay, where he 


would have plenty to eat and a good bed to lie on. When I 
saw his penitence and candour I could not speak unkindly to 
him, but said I would forgive and receive him again on condi- 
tion that he would promise never again to requite our kindness 
with such ingratitude, which terms he readily agreed to. 
He next sought a reconciliation with the children, which was 
soon accompBshed, when we returned to our dwelling. Until 
he had seen Mr. Smith, Wergon seemed rather fearful lest he 
should be horsewhipped ; but was soon satisfied that he had no 
such punishment to fear. His companion, through Peter, 
expressed a desire to remain with us also ; but as he had left a 
good master we thought it most proper to send him back to Mr. 

W , availing ourselves of the opportunity of sending a few 

lines by him, expressive of our displeasure with his protegi for 
having been a party to enticing away our poor black boy, 

thereby depri\dng D of his native tutor. We learned 

afterwards that he appeared exceedingly surprised on his 
master's reading the letter and reprimanding him for his con- 
duct. He could not conceive how the news could be contained 
in that piece of paper, and was inclined to attribute it to some 
supernatural agency. This little incident had more effect upon 
him than the most severe flogging would have had. 

A short time after the occurrence of the events just re- 
corded, two black men were committed for trial, at the Supreme 
Court, Adelaide, for spearing cattle in our neighborhood. Their 
very names had been a terror to hutkcepcrs and stockkccpcrs. 
Berenaluen and Deredowen were supposed to be the ringleaders 
of a dro^e of natives whose constant occupation was stealing 
horses, cattle, and sheep. 

Deredowen left a wife and two step-children, a boy and girl, 
who sought protection from us, which was granted on the con- 
dition that they made themselves generally useful. Pendowen 
(step-mother to the children), grateful for our kindness, under- 
took to herd our milch cows. Berenaluen left four wives 
and four children. Through the intercession of Peter, two of 
his wives were received under the protection of our family. 
They erected their ngoorla near our house, in case an attack 
should be made on them by anv of the more hostile tribes. 
Peter was highly delighted at having so many of his own 
country people near him. He waa "ver^ tc^o^'es^^k^l^'^iasAc^i^^R^ 


in the midst of the group, entertaining them with portions of 
Scripture history, such as the destruction of the world, the final 
judffment, &c. I have frequently been asked by them if the 
world would be burnt, and how Ions it might be oef ore such an 
event would take place; if their dead would rise again, and 
whether or not the Son of the Bie Spirit, who came down to this 
world, had not lef c a wife behind him. When their conversation 
turned to such subjects, I generally improved the opportunity 
to the best of my ability, but was very much discouraged to 
hear their yells of ridicule or disapprobation, and could only 
raise my heart in fervent prayer, ^* O Lord, arise and plead 
^' Thine own cause; open Thou the eyes of their imderstandine : 
'' the harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few ; " and I 
could not refrain from cherishing the idea that ultimately my 
feeble efforts for the promotion of God's glory and the salvation 
of at least some of the natives, would be crowned with success. 
Pendowen was not long a widow before she was taken forcibly 
by another native to be his lubra, to share his affection with 
two others, who, being younger than herself, were treated with 
considerably more regard. A short time afterwards, as she 
returned in the evening with our cows, she had occasion to pass 
her husband ; and having done so without speaking to him, or 
his more affectionate partners, she excited his indignation, and 
caused him to manifest his extreme displeasure, which was 
evinced by his throwing after her a spear, which so much 
alarmed her that she fled towards the house, leaving my youngest 
son (who was with her) to the mercy of the savage. I was 
sitting in my room when she came m, with hair erect from 

fear. She called for D and Peter, exclaiming, " Gun ! gun !" 

(Mr. Smith being from home). I perceived danger was near, 
and ran out to look after the children. I met my faithful 
Peter coming with the child in his arms, who immediately 
desired me to remain in the house. Pendowen was desirous of 
having her husband shot without further ceremony, which desire 
we had some difficulty in suppressing. All our protection fi'om 
the angry natives lay in the walls of our house, which, being 
of timber, afforded very little in case they made use of fire-— 
which we had no doubt they would do during the night. 
However, Peter (with his usual readiness to do a good turn) 
prepared himself for our defence. His first step was to pay a 


visit to their ngoorlas, in order that he might ascertain whether 
their anirer had in any way subsided. On finding that they 
still appLed in a veiV an^ mood he retumedTInd having 
obtained a loaded gun, went out and fired it in the air as a 
warning to them to keep off, which had the desired effect, as 
th^ did not come near us during the night. 

I»:>metime after this occurrence Peter came to me in haste, 
saying Britaming (the daughter of Pendowen) was frightening 
the children with a snake. I went to the door and saw the gin 
throwing a dead viper aroimd the children's feet, which veiy 
much alarmed me. Peter took a piece of rope in his hand, 
went up to her, and after reasoning with her on the imprudence 
of such conduct severely flogged her with the rope, saying at 
the same time, " Do not play with the white man's children so 
'* again ;" after which I always felt confident my children were 
safe whilst Peter was near them. 

On another occasion a black man came from a neighbouring 
station with two horses to get a bag of flour, which, having 
obtained, he desired Peter to take to our horse and accompany 
him. Without forethought, he took the bridle to catch the 
horse ; but before he had gone far he stood still a short time, 
scratching his head. Then he returned, apparently ashamed of 
himself at having yielded so far without consulting us. He 
said, " Missus, me stupid blackfellow — me no want horse.'* He 
also told me the other black was angry with him for not taking 
the horse. However, to please his friend he followed him on 
foot. After he had gone a considerable distance, and when they 
were some miles from the place, his friend desired Peter to steal 
some flour from the bag for the black women, and leave it on a 
stump of a tree until they could come for it. He replied, " No, 
" no ; me no steal, because the Big Spirit see me, and be angry 
^' with me.*' The other began to argue on the improbability of 
such a thing, when they could not see the Big Spirit themselves. 
But Peter, not liking his companion, thought best to return. 
When my poor black boy related to me wnat had passed be- 
tween them, I felt very great encouragement, and truly my 

heart rejoiced within me. My son D was also very mucn 

pleased to find that his native teacher had the fear of God 
before his eyes, and was enabled, through that fear, to resist 


At another time I missed his blanket, and asked him where 
it was [I knew myself, but was desirous of proving his honesty]. 
He said, " I have lent it to a poor old lubiti, who was quite 
*' naked, but I will bring it back again." During his whole life 
I never knew him to tell a lie, to swear, or to steal. He ap- 
peared to have the greatest respect for honesty and truth, and, 
moreover, a continual desire to become acquainted with the 
truths of Scripture. Frequently whilst I have sat by him, and 
endeavoured to explain the nature of Christ's sufferings, their 
cause and effect, he has listened with eager attention. He 
would reply, " Me hear, me hear — ^me no stupid ; very good you 
" — ^no like 'nother ' cummor.' " — 

" Where vice has held its empire long, 
'Twill not endure the least control ; 
None hut a power divinely strong 
Can turn the current of the soul." . 

One morning I overheard Peter saying to D , " Me dream 

last night dat old Rodney (the horse) throw me coming down 
the hill." Not more than two hours afterwards he was riding 
down the hill referred to, on the very horse mentioned, when he 
did unfortunately fall off; and so severely was his ankle sprained, 
that for several days he was unable to walk. I used greatly to 
enjoy a walk or a ride in his company. He was so attentive 
and obliging, and would give me the native name for any 
strange shrub or flower we met with. I was greatly amused 
with his description of the method adopted by himself or any 
of his tribe, when travelling along through the country, for 
the purpose of safety at night whilst taking rest. He would 
make his bed on the top of a bushy sheaoak tree. This feat 
was exhibited to me ; and so cleverly was it done, that to the 
eye of a casual observer it would not be discernible. During 
his early years his father once took him with himself, in com- 
pany with some other natives, to steal sheep. He and the 
other boys had to drive the sheep to a convenient place for 
slaughtering them. Peter was afraid the white man would 
track the sheep, overtake, and kill them. He related his fears 
to his father, who gave no heed to them. The white man soon 
did follow and nearly caught them, and they consequently had 
to run and hide themselves in the jungle. On his relating this 
incident to me, I asked him if he had ever eaten human flesh — 


a question which I could discern brought unpleasant recoUec- 
tions to his mind. However, he told me he once went to a 
murapena (a native festival), and that after the dancing was 
over the men ran after each other with their spears. He saw 
one Ml, and soon after heard the death-cry. The poor man was 
killed and speedily divided and devoured by his comrades ; but 
although Peter was veiy hungry, he could not eat the flesh of a 
black man. He said he was resolved never again to go to a 

He was asked whether he would like to go to England and 
other foreign countries, as other natives do. He replied, " I 

" would like to go very well if Master or D would go with 

" me, and return again ; but not to remain away from my own 
''land." It is customary for the natives, on particular occa- 
sions, to paint themselves with red ochre and a sort of whitening 
obtained from ouster shells, thus presenting a most ludicrous 
appearance. With this habit Peter was now so thoroughly dis- 
gusted that he entirely gave it up, and appeared to look with 
pity on those who were so ignorant and foolish as to continue 
it. The following incident exhibits the strength of his attach- 
ment to those to whom he had been taught to look as his 
relatives. His foster-father paid him a visit; and after the 
ceremony of embracing each other was over, he went aside with 
his parent, and after a short conversation returned to me and 
said, " I am going to give my clothes to my father." I reasoned 
with him on the impropriety of such a step, but he maintained 
that it was his duty, accordmg to usage, and he must do it — 
which he accordingly did. His father said he did not wish to 
take Peter away. He could see he was very happy with us, 
and also very fond of the children. He mentioned that he 
would also be glad to leave his own son with us ; and after 
sundry solicitations for pipes, tobacco, bread, &c., he took his 

It affords the writer of this work much gratification, in 
taking a retrospective view of the past, to call to mind the many 
pleasing incidents connected with the short and eventful history 
of this poor black boy. Peter was very fond of singing, and 
frequently when joined by a number of his semi-civilised com- 
rades, he would sit down with them and spend hours in singing 
the praises of God. 


On one occasion he said, '*In the dark woods, when no 
*' drual (native) near, den me look up to heaben and send up 
cry — so low dat man not hear, but God on high in shining 
places hear, and see big tears run down my face." 
Many times when I have spoken to him on those subjects he 
has remarked, *' I no stupid like other black boys ; I under- 
" stand." He made several attempts at translating the Liord's 
prayer, but never arrived at any satisfactory termination, 
^eing so very fond of singing with his companions, Mr. Smith 
(who had become partially acquainted with the drual, or native 
language), for their amusement, composed the following simple 
words : — 


'* Doll karden yirro, 
Onedo vengno hollook, 
Ungno laloo haloo," 

Which, when translated, runs something like the following : — 

** Magpie sitting on a tree, 
One time we throw, two times, we throw, 
HaUoo! haUoo!" 

This little composition was a source of much amusement to them 
for some time afterwards. 

Peter was very fond of getting a number of the native youths 
together and relating to them the story of the Cross, and would 
use his utmost endeavours to make them understand the cause 
of Christ's sufferings, and the advantages to mankind in general 
arising therefrom. But, alas! all his endeavours appeared to 
be ineffectual. Yet it cannot be doubted, when the facts 
already stated are taken into consideration, that the persevering 
efforts of those whose hearts are fired with a holy zeal in the 
cause of Christ, under the blessing of God, will eventually be 
crowned with great and glorious success. 

It may not. be out of place here to record a rather amusing 
conversation which took place between Peter and his pupu 

D . Peter observed, " The drual wish me to go away from 

" this coimtry." *' For what reason do they wish you to leave 
" us ?" " They say there is a * tunnage ' (plague) coming to take 
" women and cihildren away, and the earth will be burnt. The 
'^ drutd want me to flee away to another country with. them. I 
"told them I would speak to D about it, and that they 


" would see that it was not true." " Quite right, Peter ; well, 
" let us make a large fire around us, and let us remain within 
*' the circle of flames, and see what effect that will have on the 
" drual." Peter (who was rather inclined to favor the super- 
stitious ideas of his colored friends) replied, " The fire will not 

" save us from the • tunnage I* — ^we ao not see it." D 

intimated that God would protect those who put their trust in 
Him. Peter replied, '* I told them Mr. and Mrs. Smith were not 
" afraid of the ' tunnage.' " D asked whether they sup- 
posed the sea would be burnt up too ? " Yes," replied Peter, 
" the drual say so." " Then we shall have plenty of fish " said 

D . " Oh ! but what good will the fish be to us when we 

" are aU dead ?" " Certainly, none at all." Peter learnt after- 
wards that the natives, actuated by selfish motives, had made 
use of these suggestions for the purpose of getting him away 
with them. 

One bright simmier's morning, a party of us, four in number, 
took a journey of some distance to one of the nearest swamps, 
partly for pleasure and partly for the purpose of catching 
leeches. On arriving at the desired spot, we lit a fire on the 
banks of a small lagoon, and boiled our quart-pot for the 
purpose of making a drink of tea to refresh us after our journey. 
Whilst thus engaged, Peter, who was one of our party, sug- 
gested the idea of our being entertained with a story from an 
aged black woman who was with us. After sundry shrugs of 
her shoulders and woeful expressions of countenance, she began. 
Pointing to a certain spot, the lubra related as follows : — ** I have 
" seen an awful death there. I have seen a husband tie his 
"wife's hands and feet, and throw her into a large fire." 
** What had she done wrong ? " asked Peter. " She had 
" committed no crime," was the reply, " but was so pimished 
" because she was weak and sickly. The day on which this 
took place, she had been told by her husband to go and fetch 
water. She attempted to do so, but being unable to walk, 
she stumbled and fell, spilling the water. She then crawled 
back to the ngoorla, where there was a large fire, and told her 
'* husband to go for water himself. He immediately caught 
" hold of her and tied her hands and feet, and threw her head- 
" first into the fire. Her cries for a time were heartrending ; 
" but soon all was over." The old woman concluded her story 





by saying that this took place before the white man came to the 
coimtry. The above was related by the old black woman in 
her own language and interpreted by Peter, upon whom it had 
a very beneficud effect. He now felt anxious to go forth 
amongst the natives, and endeavor to teach them what he knew 
of the plan of salvation, of God, of heaven, of hell, and the 
eternal existence of the soul. 

Soon after Peter took a journey of some distance to visit the 
Wattatonga tribe, though at the peril of .his life, so anxious 
was he to make good use of his small stock of Scriptural know- 
ledge. After being absent a week, he returned and reported 
to us the massacre of eleven of the tribe he had visited, by two 
white men. It appeared from his story the white men had 
shown no mercy to either the grey-headed old man or to the 
helpless infant on its mother's breast. Peter persuaded a 
youth, who had escaped from the hands of the ^idte men, to 
return with him. Often afterwards have I seen the tears of 
grief run down his sable cheeks, when the fate of his parents 
was spoken of. The cause of this unmerciful step being taken 
was the kiUing by the natives of a number of sheep, belonging 
to a settler in the Guichen Bay district. The case was taken 
up by the authorities, but discharged for want of evidence. 
Doubtless had the natives been the murderers instead of the 
murdered, sufficient evidence would have been found, or perhaps 
less conclusive proof would have been deemed sufficient to 
justify a sentence of death. But let those who are concerned 
remember that a day of retribution is at hand, when impartial 
justice will be dealt to all, irrespective of rank or color. At 
that day all the evidence required will be brought forth — the 
Judge will be an impartial one ; and those eleven victims, whose 
bodies the flames consumed, will stand forth and witness against 
the real criminals, whose doom will be to endure the torments 
of the eternal fire, unless, like the Psalmist, they cry from their 
hearts, ** Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, thou God of 
'* my salvation, and my tongue shall sing aloud of Thy righteous- 

The writer of these pages had a conversation with a very 
interesting-looking young man (who was a stockkeeper in the 
neighborhood) on the best method of taming the natives. From 
his appearance something sensible was expected, but the reader 


must judge for himself as to the advisability of pursuing such a 
course of treatment as this young man proposed. He spqke as 
follows : — " In this part they don't understand how to manage 
*' the darkies. My plan is, to keep a good pair of dogs to run 
'* them down, imtil they catch them by the flesh, and make 
*' them roar like calves when they are attacked by the dogs. If 
" they are treated in this manner, I'll warrant in a few days 
*• there will not be one found on the run. Where I stop I 
"have hunted them off in this manner for many a mile." 
Reader, what think you of this method of taming the natives of 
Australia? Think you, had the missionaries adopted such 
means in the South Sea Islands and elsewhere, they would 
have had so many converts to Christianity as they have at 

When the yoimg man left, I felt grieved to think that a 
person from whom I had expected better things was possessed 
of such a depraved and cruel heart, and more especially as my 
faithful Peter was present, and heard the whole of this hard- 
hearted harangue. I asked him what he thought of it. With 
an expression of heartfelt grief, he answered, " Wrong, wrong : 
" no good, no good, that one." Peter appeared to understand 
that nis people were a degraded race, who were ruled by the 
white man as with a rod of iron ; and these ideas caused him to 
exhibit at times feelings of deep depression. It had long been 
my desire to send Peter to the native school in Adelaide, that 
he might acquire a better knowledge of the English language, 
that at a future time he might return and, imder more favorable 
circumstances, go forth and '* proclaim the glad tidings of 
"salvation" to his own people. As has been previously 
mentioned, my desire at first was, that through the teachings of 

Peter, D should be instructed in the drual language, in 

order to his becoming fitted for this important work. But 
experience proved to me that it was not altogether feasible: 
it was in a great measure impracticable. I was therefore 
desirous, if possible, to avail myself of the only alternative, so 
far as Peter was concerned. He was informed of the project, 
and also of the kindness he might expect from Mr. Moorhouse, 
the Protector of Aborigines, and also from Mr. Ross, the 
teacher of the native school ; and his opinion was asked on the 
subject. He replied, " If Mr. Smith wish me to go, me go." 


Mr. Smith at once sanctioned the project, and Peter set about 
preparing for the journey. As there was a vessel lying in the 
Bay just about startins for Adelaide, I asked the captain to take 
charge of my poor black boy, and see him safe to Adelaide, 
which he very kindly promised to do. Peter was at once 
dressed up as neatly as circumstances would permit, and 
provided with a few shillings in his pocket, when he took a 
most affecting leave of us and embarked on board the vessel, 
which soon after disappeared over the dark blue waves of the 
Southern Ocean. Before he took his departure, we had pro- 
mised him that in a short time D should pay him a visit, 

and that if he did not like to remain at the school he might 
then return. He enjoyed the trip to Adelaide very much, 
after overcoming a slight attack of sea-sickness. The captain 
and passengers on board were very kind to him, more especially 
when they found him so polite and well-behaved. They 
amused him by describing what he would see and hear when he 
reached Adelaide. After about fifty hours they arrived at the 
Port, and Peter was conducted to Adelaide and introduced to 
Mr. Moorhouse — whom he spoke of as being kind like a father 
to him — after which he was placed under the care of Mr. Ross, 
whose kindness he never forgot. For a time he was greatly 
charmed with the arrangements of the school. The organ, 
which he heard after marching in procession to the church, 
also pleased him greatly for a time. But eventually the disci- 
pline of the school became more than his roving mind could 
endure, being always at liberty whilst with us to go for i^ 
ramble in the woods whenever he thought proper — ^although, of 
CQurse, after he had been some time with us he would not take 
it upon himself to go away far without either asking permission 
or acquainting us with his intention. He felt the restraint of 
school regulations too severe for him, and consequently, when 
an opportunity occurred, made his escape. According to pro- 
mise, after Peter had been (as we supposed) at school several 
months, D took a trip to Adelaide for the purpose of pay- 
ing him a visit. Immediately on arriving in Adelaide, D 

called on Mr. Ross, who, to his surprise and mortification, told 
him that Peter had some time pre^dously made his escape, and 
that although he had used every means available to recover 
him or to ascertain what had become of him, he had failed to 

,no (wife of Tigerl, 


do SO. After seeking information from every source he could 

think of without success, D returned quite dejected. 

On a bright summer's day, some weeks afterwards, as I was 
standing gazing over the smooth waters of the ocean, occa- 
sionally casting a glance over the beautiful landscape to the 
north and east — ^yet at times completely absorbed in thought 
respecting the fate of my poor black boy — I beheld at a 
short distance walking along the beach towards me, at such a 
pace as indicated extreme fatigue or weakness, an individual, 
apparently a native. Several of my children being near me, I 
said to them, " There is some poor creature coming who appears 
'* quite overcome with the heat." They immediately ran to meet 
him. He appeared to be a stranger to them, and was a tall 

emaciated black boy. G asked him his name. Taking 

him by the hand he replied — " Peter my name, don't you know 

" Peter S ? " G at once ran to me, saying, " I think 

" this is Peter retui*ned again." It was indeed my poor black 
boy returned. He was unable to approach us quickly in conse- 
quence of weakness and ill-health ; but so soon as he reached the 
spot where I stood, he grasped my hand with all the warmth 
and earnestness of a dear friend. I thought at the time of the 
foUowing lines :— 

"With parching heat the summer shone 
On the slender stem that was stooping ; 
The verdure of the leaves was ^one, 
The fading flower was drooping." 

His countenance exhibited immistakeable signs of past illness — 
from which it was evident he had not yet recovered. We 
therefore proceeded to the house as quickly as his feeble state 
would permit, where he was soon provided with refreshment, 
and recommended to seek some repose. The delight his im- 
expected return afforded us as a family may be better under- 
stood than described, when the reader considers our isolated 
condition — ^living so far fi'om any populated district, and so 
seldom seeing a stranger, cither white or black. After he had 
taken a little rest, he arose as from a pleasant dream, and 
scanned the place from side to side, apparently trying to 
remember whether all things remained as when he left. ITien 
he exclaimed, in tender and affectionate tones, '^ You all here, 
" father, mother, and children — all same when, ina ^ ^r^'*:^ " 


He appeared moved with deep emotion, and the hig tears 
coursed each other down his swarthy cheeks in quick succes- 
sion. What were the immediate causes of this outburst of 
feeling I could not positively ascertain, but have no doubt they 
arose from the contemplation of his present position. He 
appeared to be suffering from consumption, and evidently 
could not live long. Of these facts he appeared to be fully 
aware ; and, no doubt, at this time, was lea to reflect on the 
eternal destiny of mankind. 

I felt no little anxiety on his accoimt, for although his pre- 
vious conduct had been so exemplary, yet I still had doubts as 
to his having experienced that change of heart which is abso- 
lutely necessary to salvation in all those who have been made 
acquainted with their lost condition as sinners against Qod, and 
the atonement made for them by Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Thoughts of his approaching end, therefore, to me were painful 
in the extreme, and caused me to shed tears ; but thev were as 
the tears of a mother when her heart yearns for the salvation of 
her son or daughter. The language of my heart was, *' Infinite 
" Wisdom, who can say what Thine almighty power shall do ? 
" Teach him to sing Thy redeeming love, and warm his soul with 
" heavenly love." After the tea things had been removed that 
night, and all the family were seated around the table, that was 
was a happy hour for every heart. Mr. Smith struck up the old 
favourite tune — 

** Here we meet to pai*t again, 
In heaven we part no more.** 

Peter seemed to be himself again, and, together with Pendowen, 
united heart and soul in the singing, and enjoyed himself won- 
derfully. After he had recovered in a measure from the fatigue 
of his long journey of over two himdred and fifty miles, he was 
enabled to relate his adventures on the way. 

At sundown on the day of his departure from Adelaide, he 
found himself miles away from his kind teacher and school- 
mates, fatigued and hungry. He saw at a short distance, by 
the roadside, a dwelling, towards which he directed his steps. 
On approaching the house he scrutinized the premises, lest there 
should be savage dogs to molest him. To his great satisfaction 
a kind and amiable looking woman came to the door and en- 






quired what he wished for. He replied — " Please ma'am, me 
" want road to go to my country." She kindly replied, " You 
'• have run away from hlack boys' school." " Yes, ma'am, me 
"like my own country best.' "What is your name, and 
where is your country, my boy ?" " Peter Smith my name ; 
my fader, Mr. Smith, Rivoli Bay ; he send me to Adelaide to 
school ; me no like this country ; me like my white broders 
"and sisters." "Poor boy, you are a long way from your 
country ; you must be hungry and tired. Come in, sit down 
and have your tea," she replied. Peter timidly complied with 
the thoughtful request of his new-foimd friend. After he had 
satisfied the cravings of nature, his kind friend informed him 
that he might remain until a dray passed en route to Mount 
Barker, so that he might not lose his way in travelling alone. 
The following day he had an opportunity of travelling as far as 
Mount Barker, in company with a party who were journeying 
thither. So, having thanked his kind hostess, who supplied him 
with food for the joumev and sixpence to put into his pocket, 
he took his departure, he arrived safely at Mount Barker in 
the afternoon, when another door was opened to him by Provi- 
dence. A kind-hearted individual, whose name I could not 
ascertain, but who kept a butcher's shop at that place, gave 
Peter permission to remain with him imtil an opportunity 
occurred for his travelling in company towards Rivoli Bay. 
During his stay with this person he was induced to mount a 
young horse, which ran away with him and threw him, breaking 
two of his ribs. He suffered greatly, and was unable to get 
about for some time. The butcher's wife, however, took great 
care of him, and attended to his wants. For more than two 
months he remained at Mount Barker [where he happened to be 

when D passed that way looking for him, yet unable to 

find him out], when he had an opportunity of pursuing his 
journey to the Murray station in company with a married 
couple, who were travelling overland with a bullock, on which 
they rode alternately. Mr. Mason kindly supplied him with 
food for the journey. This couple brought him to within thirty 
miles of Rivoli Bay. On separating from them, Peter directed 
his course towards the coast. He soon reached a station, where 
he remained until next morning, and then started for home, 
where he arrived safely as before stated. 


I asked him, ^^Did you think of Jesus when alone and 
*' so far from home." He replied, " Yes, missus, me think 
^^and speak to Jesus; me kneel on ground and speak to^ 
'^Him." He expressed himself ^vith such fervour, and ex- 
hibited such manifest tokens of gratitude, that I could not 
refrain from raising my voice aloud to Qod for the evident 
tokens of a regenerated heart, and exclaimed in the language 
of Holy Writ, " My words shall not return unto me void," 
and ''*' He will gather His elect from all nations and 
kindreds and peoples and tongues, neither shall any pluck 
them out of His hand, for His own name's sake." One day, a 
short time after his return, Peter came in in haste, his coun- 
tenance beaming with delight, and as if desirous of communi- 
cating something which gave him pleasure. He stood before 

me. I said, " Well, Peter, what name ?" He replied, " D 

** tell me of Jesus ; he speak to me like drual — * tunbun tunbun 
" ' low, mamin de ceumana ' " (ti-ue, true, speak our father in 
heaven). He remarked, with much feeling, " The drual do not 
'* hear the name of Jesus." On another occasion he met with 
a native woman, whose infant son was at the point of death, and 
recommended her to come to me for advice. She brought it 
and I took it into my arms. It was a half-caste, and quite 
emaciated from continued sickness. I told Peter to infonn its 
mother that the child was dying. She said she knew it would 
not live, and desired me to pray to my Father in heaven that 
its soul might go to heaven. Through Peter I informed her of 
the love of the Saviour for little children, whether white or 
black. Shortly after the child expired, and poignant was the 
grief of its mother. 

Peter appeared to take great delight in recounting his adven- 
tures during his absence to a few of his former companions, who 
had returned to take up their quarters near us. 'lliey seemed 
greatly delighted with his description of various things he had 
seen in Adelaide — the great buildings, handsome shops, &c., not 
forgetting the confectioners. After his return Peter spent the 
greater part of his time with his colored friends. He urged 
upon them to the utmost of his abilities the necessity for a 
change of heart ; and the writer sincerely trusts these feeble 
endeavours on the part of an Australian aborigine to point his 
fellows, to the Lamb of Qod, who taketh away the sin of the 


world, were not entirely in vain. She also trusts that this poor 
native boy may not rise in the great " Day of Judgment " to 
condemn his more highly favoured white brethren of Australia. 
Peter*s disease was beginning to affect him in various ways. 
He was frequently overcome by drowsiness, and would sleep for 
hours during the day time, and when waked up would say, " I 
"very sleepy; I don*t know what make me so sleepy." He 
often complained of headache and sickness, and although he 
suffered severely at times, yet he never murmured. One Sslj he 
went out and lay in the sun, at the same time sprinkling him- 
self with water. I said to him, " Peter, you had better come 
'* into the house, the sun is too hot.'' He replied, ** Missus, 
"drual like cold water and sun together." Shortly after I 
heard him cry out feebly, " Missus Smith." I ran to the door 
and saw him grasping the side of the house. He said, " I fall, 
'* I fall ; me no see." I took him by the hand and led him to 
his bed. After he had lain down I bathed his temples with 
water, but he had fainted. I stood by his side with his hand in 
mine until he regained consciousness, when he exclaimed, ** Me 
"think me die soon, Mrs. Smith." "Well," I replied, "my 
"dear boy, where will your soul go if you die." "To Jesus 
" Christ in heaven," he said, with such earnestness, that I shall 
never forget. I assured him that if he trusted in Jesus Christ 
he would bring him safe home to his Father in heaven. He ex- 
pressed himself as fully satisfied that through the sacrificial 
death of Christ alone he could be saved, and that he relied on 
the merits of his death for acceptance with God I was indeed 
pleased to hear him express his convictions so plainly, and re- 

Ioiced with him that he had such a bright hope of future glory. 
)ay after day the people of his tribe came to see him. They 
moaned and cried over him. Apparently their erief was ex- 
treme, yet Peter seemed heedless of their crie^, and appeared to 
have but little confidence in its being genuine, " Do not groan- 
there like a lot of pigs," he said, " the white man docs not do 
such things ; do go away and let me alone. Your pangal 
(doctor) do me no good ; I am sore all over me from the bite 
" of his teeth. The white man is good to me." I was forcibly 
reminded of the converted chief of the South Sea Islands, who 
was guide to John Williams, addressing his coimtrymen — who 
were in a state of perfect nudity — who said, " Can the religion of 



" these white men be any other than wise and good ? Look at 
" them and then look at oui-selvcs. We are without house and 
" home. We are like the white man's cattle — wild in the bush. 
"We tremble at the bellowing of their cattle. We thought 
*' their horses were made to bite us, and to their sheep we could 
" not give a name. Their bread we buried in the groimd lest it 
** should poison us. Were we not ignorant before the white 
** man came, whose ships brought to our land so many good 
" things we could not name. We are taught by them to know 
'* all these things." 

Peter's foster-father had heard of his illness, and came 
thirty miles to see him. Ilieir meeting was a most afiPecting 
sight. I had scarcely anticipated such an exhibition of feeling 
from them, and was very much afraid lest Peter would be 
persuaded to leave us and go away with the other natives. 
However, he promised me he would not do so, but would 
merely go with his friends to their wurley on the hillside. He 
was evidently failing fast, and could take veiy little nourish- 
ment ; the only thing he appeared to relish was sugar and water. 
At the wurley he was surrounded by his drual sisters, who were 
ready to administer to his wants. Cold and chilly breezes 
blew over the hillside where stood the open wurley, and Peter 
found the accommodation scanty and the comforts few, and 
notwithstanding the officious attention of the pangal (doctor), 
he found himself far fi'om comfortable. I desired him to 
return with me to the house, but he preferred enduring the 
discomforts of the wurley to being any trouble to me, saying I 
might send him any little comforts I had to spare, and he 
would be content to remain where he was. Britaming (a little 
girl previously mentioned) was his constant attendant, and was 
frequently sent by him to tell me how he was. She was con- 
stantly by his side, either keeping the flies off him or getting 
him anything he required. I went over to see him one morn- 
ing, and found a great change in him ; his eyes appeared heavy, 
his voice rough, and his general appearance that of one whose 
end was near. I sat down by his side, and said, " Peter, do 
you know me?" He replied, " Yes, yes, Missus, but me no 
see — me soon die. I am very ill ; it will soon be over." I 
said, " God will soon make you better, and will free you from 
" pain. He sees you, and will hear your prayer." He said, 



" Oh yes ! oli yes ! I often pray to Him, and try to sing ; but I 
*' cannot sing, and these women think I am cranky." I ex- 
plained to him how mindful the Saviour is of His afflicted 
followers — ^that He is ever near to guard and protect them. 
His reply was something like the following : — " I know Jesus 
" Christ died for me : I know He loves me, and that He will 
" soon take me to live where He lives ; then I shall have no 
" more suffering ; then I shall be happy for ever." I knelt a 
few moments in silent prayer — experiencing much power in 
prayer, and enjoying very sweet communion with the Father of 
spirits. I left him for the time, feeling fully satisfied that he 
was quite prepared for the solemn change which appeared so 
nigh at hand. When I saw him again he appeared much 
worse. I asked him if he felt happy ? He said, " Yes, 
Missus, me know Jesus Christ, the Son of God ; me now feel 
that what Mr. Ross, in Adelaide, tell me, and what you tell me, 
all true ; and now me soon go to live with Jesus, in heaven." 
Britaming told me she often heard him say, ** Jesus Christ save 
" me." llie next day I went to see him, and took some food 
for him, but, to my surprise, he was not there. Anxiously I 
looked round the hiU ; at last I discovered him some distance 
down the side of the hill, covered in dust : apparently he had 
rolled down. At first I could scarcely tell whether he was 
living or dead. I asked him if he knew me? He replied, 
"Yes, Missus." I said, "You can still pray?" "Oh, yes! 
me still pray — Jesus Christ, my Saviour." I said, " My dear 
boy, are you afraid to die ? " He said, " Oh no ! no ! me na 
afraid to die ; me go to heaven ; me see Jesus." Then I could 
not help exclaiming, " Let me die the death of the righteous, 
" and let my last days be like his." When I was about to 
leave him, he partly raised himself and exclaimed with extra- 
ordinary vehemence, " Oh, Missus, me no afraid to die ; Jesus 
" died for me ; Mr. Moorhouse told me that. Missus, me loves 
" Jesus ! " I said, " Yes, my boy, he loves you too, and soon he 
will take you to Himself ; soon your sufferings will be over, 
and I trust some day we shall have a happy meeting at the 
right hand of God." 
A few days before his death he expressed a wish to be 
brought nearer our house. Accordingly he was carried by 
some of his sable friends back to our place, where he was* 





supplied with more bed clothes, that he might be kept warm 
during the cold nights. Ue appeared very grateful for the 
attention paid him. He was asked whether he thought he 
would get better. He said, *'*• No ; me no want to get better ; 
** me soon die and go Fadder in heaben, hallowed be His name." 
He suffered very considerably, in consequence of which he was 
unable to converse with me to that extent I desired; but 
whatever doubts I had relative to his experimental acquaintance 
with the power and willingness of Christ to save to the very 
uttermost were all remov^. I may here narrate a fact in 
proof of the reality of his conversion. He manifested a very 
deep concern for the conversion of those around him ; notwith- 
standing the severity of his sufferings, he would not permit an 
opportimity to pass imimproved. He would reprove, exhort, and 
entreat on behalf of that Saviour who was his chief comfort in 
time of need, with such earnestness as I have seldom seen 
equalled by any of his more highly favored white brethren. 

At ten o'clock the next day my son G came running to me, 

and said, " Come away quickly, Peter wants you ; he is dying.*' 
I was soon by his side, when I found an old uative man rolling 
him on the ground. I bade him desist, which he did at once. 
Poor Peter recovered from the rough treatment in a short time, 
and said to me, " Missus, will you give me a drink ? " I gave 
him some drink, for which he thanked me, and then said, ^^ I 
" soon die ; Jesus come for me to-day." He ap2)eared quite 
calm and peaceful. He desired me not to leave him, as he 
believed he was dying. A short time before, two black women, 
who had been staying with him, had gone away. He said, 
" Why they go away ? Why not stay and see Peter die ? " He 
told Britaming to call them bock, but they were gone too far to 
hear her calls. Shortly after he fell asleep, but did not sleep 
long before he woke up, and seemed to be suffering severely. 
When the pain had somewhat abated, he folded his hands, and 
raising them over his breast, exclaimed, " Our Father who an in 
"heaven, hallowed be Thy name." The remainder of the 
Lord's Prayer he repeated in his own language, concluding with 
" Lord Jesus Christ, save poor black boy. Poor black man." 
I said, " A few more hours, and you will be with Jesus, my 
"good boy." He replied, "Bad boy me, bad me." All at 
once his countenance lit up with such a heavenly smile, while 


he said, *' Me see Jesus ! me see Him now ! " He again asked 
for a drink, after <<rhich he fell asleep for a few minutes, when 
he again awoke quite refreshed. He looked me steadfastly in 
the face, and said, " Where master ? " I said, " Do you wish 

" to see Mr. Smith, Peter ? " " Yes, ma'am." I called G and 

a little black girl, and told them to go for Mr. Smith. I 
shall never forget the earnest expression of Peter as he urged 
upon them not to delay, saying, " Tell Mr. Smith I am dpng — 
" I am dying ; I am going to Jesus — I will soon go — ^make 
" haste." Again he slept for a shoi*t time. When he awoke, 
he said, " Is master come ? very long coming." I asked, 
** What do you want master for, Peter ? " '* Me like master to 
" pray," he replied. I left him, and went a few paces towards 
the house to see if Mr. Smith was coming. I had n )t gone far, 
when Britaming came running after me, and said that Peter 
breathed very hard. I returned immediately, and only just in 
time to hear his last words, " I go to Jesus." Shortly after- 
wards Mr. Smith and D an'ived; but how great their 

disappointment to find that poor Peter had so suddenly passed 
away to the world of spirits. It was indeed painful to part 
from one to whom we had become so strongly attached ; yet it 
was a source of comfort to know that one of the natives of 
South Australia, whom we had been so long endeavoring to 
train for glory, was at last safely in heaven. It was a source 
of comfort, also, as a proof that the natives of Australia, 
though ignorant, are not so much so as to be beyond the reach 
of Gospel truth. Christians, to you this memoir is commended, 
with a hope that it may stimulate you to perseverance in 
seeking to spread the truths of the Gospel, till every nation 
and kindred and people and tongue shall have learned to lisp 
the Messiah's name. 


Utcoonin, son of my old nurse, Pendowen, died at Mount Gambier 
in December, 1864. After the death of his mother and sister he 
went to the bad, followed his tribe, and emulated the worst of 
them in vice and drunkenness for eleven years. During this 
time he often visited my family — he seemed to be very much 
attached to the children. The interpreter would take the 


opportunity of telling him the story of Jesus Christ. At last I 
received a message £rom a blaekfellovp that there had been a 
drunken fight at a place on Mayura station. Among the 
wounded was Utcoonin, whom I brought home, with another 
black. They were very sorely wounded, and their bodies were 
much debilitated by the excesses they had indulged in. Dr. 
Clindening did all in his power to lessen their sufferings; 
but consiunption seized on their wasted frames. They were 
much attached to one another. They were very shy at first ; 
but after a while that wore away, and they both became very 
friendly with me and my family. They used to call me their 
" white mother." We talked to them of Jesus, of His loving- 
kindness, of how He left His home in heaven, and came to this 
earth to suffer and die for poor sinners. On the night previous 
to Utcoonin's death we talked together of the happiness of faith 
in Jesus ; and before I left them for the night I knelt down with 

i'oyous heart and praised God for this glorious manifestation of 
lis love to my sable sons. Next morning I hurried to go and 
see the sick men. I found one standing up in great fear, saying, 
" Help me, help me, mother ! a message from God," *' Broin 
" yenon cangin martle, Jesus tropoin bo-ong !" (Be not afraid 
my son, God will make our souls good.) He was struggling 
for breath. I took his cold hand in mine, and raised him into 

a sitting posture. He said, "Jesus Christ, son of God 1 can't 

" speak !" HemoiTliage ensued, and he died in my amis before 
I could call assistance. 

His companion, poor Harry, pined away visibly after this, 
and died ten days after Utcoonin — " a brand plucked from the 
" burning." Just before his death he called one of my sons, 
and said, " I see Jesus Christ !" and turning to me, he added, 
" Tell the good word to all the blacks. You all very good." 
Then, after shaking hands with my sons and myself, he died. 
Both these young meii found a grave on our own land, as I was 
refused a place for them in the cemetery — so degraded did these 
poor creatures appear in the eyes of our white " Christians " at 
Moimt Gambier, in 1864. 


Kotawar was a very smart and intelligent. young man. He 
became much attached to Mr. Smith and family when we came 


to Riyoli Bay, and was always willing to give every instruction 

to Mr. Smith and D in the drual language. He was 

very quick to learn English, was kind and genUe to the young 
children, and was an excellent nurse. For years he made our 
house his head quarters. He was exceedingly fond of singing 
" Hallelujah ! hallelujah !" and also of his murapena. He 
always gained somethmg from us that would interest his friends. 
Our manner of cooking, washing, and sweeping and cleanine 
the house was a novelty to him. llie art of reading ana 
writing was magic, pure and simple, to his unsophisticated 
mind. After some time he would pick up a piece of paper and 
run his finger along the line, muttering to himself, as if it was 
no difficulty to him to read, when any of his black friends 
were around. He would sometimes point to a word, and ask, 
** What name this one ?" After being told he would say, 
" Ooch, ooch " (yes, yes), as if it was quite familiar to him, but 
he had forgotten it at the moment. It came to our ears that 
he was trying to make believe that he had communication with 
people in the sky (see " Superstitions.") On one occasion he was 
to give an exhibition of his skill, and some of my family went to 
see him. An Englishman was present; and when everyone was 
waiting to hear the dead speak, he jumped up with a big stick 
in his hand, declaring that he would break it across the pangal's 
back if he ever attempted such foolery again, and effectually 
broke up that meeting. 

Kotawar counted to the interpreter eight wives he had had, 
saying, in a pitiful tone of voice — " Wives belonging to me all 
*' dead ; none left to wash *um shirt." With delight he boasted 
of nursing five of my children, now grown up. lie was a good 
servant, and faithful, but liked his grog too well. 


They belonged to the Booandik tribe, joining the Walroa 
country, on the Glenelg River. I made the acquaintance of the 
two brothers, Billy and Johnny Caboo, and soon gained their 
confidence ; for mine was not a selfish motive, but an earnest 
attempt to raise them from the degraded state into which they 
had fallen. I say fallen^ for, however cruel and degraded the 
blacks are in their natural state, they are immeasurably wotota 


when the white man brings his '* fire-water" and other agents 
of civilisation to bear upon them ! 

Mooreckey, wife of Johnny Caboo, when quite a child, was 
stolen from the blacks by a black woman, under rather peculiar 
circumstances. When Mount Schanck was first settled upon by 
the whites, they were very much annoyed by the blackiellows 
stealing the sheep. A party of them were surprised one night, 
and pursued right over the Glenelg to the Victorian side of the 
river by the settlers, armed with guns. At this place one of 
the women stopped to listen for sounds of the pursuers, when 
she was shot dead. She had her child in her arms when she 
fell, and the enraged husband buried the living child and the 
dead mother in one shallow grave. One of the black women 
stole Mooreckey (the child), and took her back with them ; and 
a kind-hearted woman adopted her and brought her up. I often 
attended Mooreckey in her illness, and her two children in 
theirs. The boy took the croup, and was at the point of death, 
when Dr. Clindening, without the slightest hope or thought of 
remimeration, gave his professional services and sent nourishing 
food from his own table to the sufferer, and probably saved 
his life. His parents on this occasion promised to give me the 
boy, to be educated at the Home, when old enough to leave his 

I was always received with respect, and had a clean bag at 
all times spread for me to sit on. They often congratulated 
themselves on the interest my son was showing in learning their 
language, because they could understand better about Jesus 
Christ m the drual than they could in the English language. 

Little Flora, Caboo*s daughter, died that same year. They sent 
for me ; but all was over. The weeping parents said she was 
well at night, but dead in the morning. Thanks to Mr. Crouch's 
kindness, she was buried in a coffin. The kindly sympathy 
evinced by the whites at their bereavement was treasured in 
the hearts of the parents. They sent the boy to our school, and 
he took his place among his black brethren. It was pleasing to 
see the work increasing and growing in favor. In God we 
placed our trust. 

Caboo's wife, Mooreckey, did not live long after this. She 

took ill and suffered gi*eatly ; but she had every attention from 

Dr. Clindening and myself to soothe her path to the grave. 


She was conscious of having a sinful heart, and embraced 
Jesus Christ as her Saviour. The Rev. Mr. Thomas, Primitive 
Methodist minister at Mount Gambier, administered the truth 
of Gk)d's Holy Word, which she received with joy. She spoke 
of her death without fear, and previous to her decease gave a 
cheering hope of her acceptance in Christ. She shook hands 
with Mr. Thomas, and said, " To-morrow me die !** and the next 
day her spirit passed away. Caboo suffered from disease of 
the heart, and looked forward to the time when he would be 
called away. Frequently I visited his ngoorla, and mostly f oimd 
him thoughtful. He said once he was thinking of the good 
things of God ; another time he said, '* Last night I was so glad 
" that I walked away to tell God. I could not walk f ar ; so I 
*' sat down on a log and said to myself, ' God made all things — 
** I will soon go to God and see my wife and child ; ' and God made 
" my heart ^ad." The very nignt he died he told his brother he 
was going to leave him, and said, ** You will soon follow me. 
" Tell Mrs. Smith that my soul is glad to meet God. We will 
" all meet there.'* He shook hands with his brother, and said, 
" Good night, I'm going to sleep," and fell asleep in Jesus. 
The two brothers once told me that one night, when restless 
with pain, they could not fall asleep, they saw the stars looking 
down upon them, and rejoiced that they spoke to Mam-bo-ong 
(Great Spirit). Billy said, "Mam-bo-ong, take our bo-ong 
'* (spirit) to his good place ;" adding, " Weep dredbon lo-on ; 
" weep mootoh, coonamena" (no hunger, nor cold, nor winter 
there, brother). " It won't be long now, brother," he said ; 
*' berin Ion doing wahrgulla" (do not be sorry for me). 

I went next day to see Johnny, to ascertain if he had made 
arrangements for his brother's fimeral. He received me with 
a sorrowful smile, and sat silent for a time — such being their 
custom on such occasions. After a time I broke the silence, 
and made my enquiries. He spoke of his own helplessness — 
not being strong enough to carry the body to the grave, or even 
to dig the grave. I made the case known to the magistrate, 
and stated how one brother lay dead, the other almost dying — 
deserted by their tribe, and no one to bury the dead. He tried 
to assume an air of dignity, but failed (for who can look 
dignified while doing or saying anything mean ?), and said, "Let 
" 3ie dead bury their dead. I have nothing to do with, vt " 


That was encouraging to me ! I next went to the corporal of 
police for help, and he promifed to send one of his men to inter 
the body. I carried the news to the brother that help was 
coming, and bade him good-bye. A few days after I returned 
to know if I could be of any service to Jolmny. I foimd he 
had carried the body to a shallow grave in a wheelbarrow all 
by himself ; no ene nad come to his assistance. Thus the body 
was at last buried. 

A very short time after Johnny, too, died, and was buried 
in the ola cemetery at Mount Qambier. 

Willie Caboo, the last of the family, was living at the Home, 
being educated. One day he ran away from us; but his 
schoolfellows went after him, and brought him back. I gave 
him something to eat, warmed his feet at the fire, and put him 
to bed. This little kindness was an effectual cure. He would 
say, " I'se a good boy, Missa." He was very ready and willing 
to do anything, and eager to please me and his teacher. One 
day at dinner he forgot to say grace, and I reminded him of the 
omission. He said, *' Can't say grace, Missa, when I'se not 
" like my dinner !" One night, when going to bed, we all knelt 
down to offer up the evening prayer. The natives said, " God 
'' bless Queen Victoria ; bless Lord Bishop that gave . us this 
" good home ; bless our good Mr. Needham, and dear Missa 
" Smith, our good mother ;*' when Willie, from his corner, said, 
*' You forget Mr. Mansell, who gave us nice seat in church " 
(Cliiu*ch of England). He was very fond of singing. " Happy 
" Land" was his favorite hymn — ^he would sing that mth his 
whole heart and soul. He was one who had to leave when the 
school was broken up for want of means. I found him one day 
after that standing crying, shivering with cold, and very ill, 
beside his mother's grave. I took him home with me, and 
called in a doctor to his assistance. Willie was suffering from 
bronchitis, and the doctor had no hopes of his recovery. We 
did all we could to ease his sufferings, and told him how Jesus 
lo>'ed little children. He often spoke of his father and mother, 
and Flora, his sister. *' All gone to the good place : I'se like to 
" be there," he would say. " I might die soon. You speak of 
" Jesus ; Willie loves Jesus." As he was drawing towards his 
end, I brought him to the parlor fire. He was unable to lie 
down, and I propped him up in a chair. He asked for my son. 







I told him he was in Adelaide. He said, " I'se die soon." He 
then leaned forward and laid his head on my knee, and said, 
'• Jesus loves Willie— Willie loves Jesus," over and over again. 
I said to him " My boy will soon go to Jesus." " I'se like you 
** Missa 'mith," he said ; ** Jesus loves Willie, Jesus loves 
" Willie." I laid him down, thinking he might sleep. He 
opened his eyes once more, and said, ** Missa 'mith," and then 
peacefully expired. 


Lohwoola, wife of Walley, was for years suffering from disease, 
occasioned by the ill-usage she had received from the tribe. 
When in health she shunned me, for fear I should speak to her of 
heaven. She was of a sullen temper. Great was my joy when, 
at her own request, I was sent for. I prayed with her at the 
foot of the Cross. Jesus died for poor sinners. She stretched 
out her hand to me, and looking up into my face, said, '' I shall 
" soon die ; pray for me." She said to one of those attending on 
her, '* I will not go to fire after death ; I shall go to Jesus 
" Christ. I leave Walley to God ; leave all my friends, every- 
'* thing in this world, and go to God in heaven, that call me 
" away. Teenateona cannot come to me." Her husband, 
thinking Satan was coming in person, caught up a fire-stick and 
threw it in the direction his wife was looking at the moment. 
It fell into the lap of an old woman, who leaped up and ran 
yelling from the camp. When he turned roimd after the dis- 
turbance was over, his wife was dead. 

To one of the white women Lohwoola remarked that my 
savings followed her wherever she went. God had blessed my 
labors. To Him be the praise. 


Yanbo-araming was the wife of King William, who died a 
Christian. After this event she came to spend the few remain- 
ing years of her life with me at my home. She was truly a 
Christian woman, and of great service in spreading the Gospel 
among her countrymen. Nothing delighted her more than to 


see all my family sitting around her camp fire, attempting 
to speak in the drual language. One day a lady visited 
Yanbo-araming when she was sick, and spoke to her in English ; 
Yanbo-araming answered her in drual, saying how happy she 
was in the prospect of death. One of her daughters interrupted 
her, saying that the lady did not imderstand drual. She said, 
'* I forgot : but Jesus knows what we say about Him.'' 

I was sitting beside her bed one night with her two daughters. 
We thought she was asleep, and we were talking together very 
low, when she began singing a drual song. One of the girls 
asked, ** Mother, what are you singing about ?" She paid no 
heed to the question, but went on singing. The girl asked her 
again, and she said, '' If you all see what I see in my soul ! I 
see heaven. I see Jesus Christ standing on the step, my good 
husband standing behind him." She looked beautiful as she 
spoke, and went off singing again. Her daughter told me one 
day that she heard her mother saying ^* I see Jesus and the 
'* angels ; an angel takes me by the hand. I hear them saying, 
** Here comes Old Mary." She often went by that name. 


" Where is my sister, Mrs. Smith ? Tell her come quick ; my 
** soul speak to God." When I got to her ngoorla she said, " I 
'' am waiting to go ; perhaps at sundown." She sent a mes- 
senger to her tribe to be present, and she would tell them of the 
good way. We all gathered aroimd her, and she said, " I hear 
" angels singing all around me — Jesus come soon." After a 
while she roused herself, and said, " I want my tomahawk, my 
" canna, my basket, my pipe." All these articles were put 
beside her bed. Her daughter asked her, " What for you want 
" all these things ?" She said, " This is all I got in this world. 
When I am dead, give my canna to Mrs. Smith. You will 
have my tomahawk, grandson." She looked at her pipe and 
smiled, saying, " Burn my basket in the fire.'' 

Next mormng I went down early to see her. She was still 
alive. " My good sister," I said, '* Jesus will soon come and 
" take you to Himself." She smiled, and answered, " Jesus 
** speak, take me by the hand. You see me by'm-bye," and so 
she died. When placed in her coffin she looked so gentle, so 
mild, with such a heavenly smile seeming just to flutter over 
her lips, that no one could resist kissing her — though she was 
black, and old, and wrinkled. Her end was peace. 




The interpreter was riding through, the bush one day, when 
he was attracted by an object lying on the ground beside a fire, 
covered with a blanket. He c^ed out, " Nanue luman ?" 
(Who is there?), and received a very faint, unintelligible 
reply — and a woman, apparently very ill, raised her head. She 
knew his voice, and was glad to see him. He had often told 
her the story of the Cross, and she had yelled and laughed at 
what she considered the foolishness of it. Jeaney, for so she 
was called, was now deserted, to perish alone. No loving 
words or kind attentions had she to soothe her dying hours. 
He spoke gently to her, and told her again of the love of Jesus. 
She raised her worn, wasted form, and said '* Once me young, 
" strong, good looking ; flesh on my bones, white men praise 
me, tiie me to their wurlas, give me * nangroo * (poison). 
I am too weak to call loud to your God. He can't hear 
me ; He is far above me. Speak for poor Jeaney." 
Jeaney, speak for yourself to Jesus, who died for you; 
" he will near anyone. He will hear black as well as 
" white, even from the ground." He then prayed with and for 
her, and had the unspeakable happiness of leaving her calm, 
and prepared for death, through the cleansing blood of the 
Lamb who was slain for all mankind. 

He went to procure assistance, and brought some of her tribe 
to nurse her ; but she was dead before their arrival. She died 
with a smile of peace on her lips. 


The following memoir of an aboriginal woman and her half- 
caste daughters was published, in pamphlet form, in 1866 : — 

Mingboaram, a female member of the Booandik tribe, was, at 
the commencement of my acquaintance with her, about twenty- 
five years of age. She was counted good-looking; and after 
becoming acquainted with some of the earliest settlers, was 
commonly known among them by the name of Caroline. At 
this period she resided at Compton, a station in the vicinity of 
Moimt Qambier, where she made herself useful in the kitchen. 
She had permission from her black ** cooley," or husband, to re- 
main with the whites, since for her sake he would be allowed 





his '* tucker" and a blanket — also a little tobacco and Rrog- 
While at Compton, Caroline became the mother of a fine nail- 
caste female child, of whom mention is made below under the 
name of Maria. Spending, afterwards, some time with her 
husband at Mount Qambier, where they stayed in close proximity 
to the police station (then newly established), she there gave 
birth to another half-caste girl, who is mentioned below under 
the name of Annie. A third half-caste child, a boy, was after- 
wards bom, but survived only a few days. 

Being resident at this time at Rivoli Bay, I frequently heard 
the buUock-drivers speaking of this Caroline; her own good 
qualities, and her fine-looking little ones being made a great 
deal of. I felt a real love for them in my heart, and often 
prayed to Qod that he would preserve them from the death-blow 
of the '* canna.'' Caroline, well aware of the treachery of her 
sable brethren, continued, therefore, to remain under the pro- 
tection which the police- troopers afforded. 

Once meeting her at Mount Schanck, I asked her for the two 
girls, and promised that I would bring them up as my own. 
At this request she became furious, indignantly telling me that 
I had ** canapeenan" (children) of my own, and that she loved 
hers and would not part with them. A year rolled on, and 
poor Caroline and her girls were cast upon their own resources 
—once more to wander through the wild woods. Seven more 
years passed ; when, one day, to my surprise, Caroline came to 
take up her abode, and erect (as it proved) her last wurley under 
some gum trees near my dwelling. Being at once invited by 
her cooley to call upon her, I hastened to her rough couch and 
found poor Caroline in great pain. She was evidently ap- 
proaching her end, but shook hands, and seemed pleased to see 
me. Her first words were, " You very good, Missie 'mith, come 
** see me quick ; me stop die long-a you — me die quick." 
Raising her emaciated form to a sitting posture, she called the 
attention of the two girls to what she was about to say ; then, 
in her broken English, thus gave me charge of her children. 
'* Missie, you look out my children ; you send them long-a school 

" with J-t M (a half-caste girl I had in my charge) ; you 

" no let them go with blackfellows." Then to the children — 
" My children, Missie will be your mother ; do as she tells you. 
"Me die very soon — me very bad." I then enquired as to the 


nature of her complaint. She said, ''Me inside humt with 
"gi^og; no more drink grog. Public-house no good-— only 
'* gi^9 gi^g*" ^ gather^ from her statements that she was 
dropsical, and also that she had been under the medical treat^ 
ment of Dr. Wehl, of Mount Gambier. Her brother, whom 
we called Jemmy, and who had been some years already in my 
ftunily, acted towards Caroline and her children with mucn 
kindness and attention. Her husband paid very little r^ard to 
her, and his neelect could scarcely be wondered at, considering 
her previous unndthfulness. I pomted to the sky, and told her 
" mar manu" (our father) would take care of her. A Christian 
woman named Mrs. MacDermot was with her late and early, 
attending to her spiritual and temporal wants. 

One day we took her some gruel. Sitting up on her bed of 
straw she took a little, and then fell back m a fainting state. 
Recovering somewhat, she held out her hand, and said, '' Good-'' 
"bye Missie 'mith." She shook hands with all, including her 
two children, to whom she said, " Never leave Missie 'mith — 
'* she good one long-a you, Maria, Annie ; no more wild." All 
our family that were present were in tears. It was truly 
affecting to behold this savage mother thus addressing her poor 

Mrs. MacDermot asked her where her soul would go after 
death. She said, " Me think go long-a sky ;" and then added, 
mentioning four of us by name, *' You speak to Jesus for me." 

My son G could speak the native dialect, in which it gave 

her much pleasure to converse. Once he asked her where her 
soul would go after death. Raising her eyes to heaven, she 
said she hoped to that place I had been speaking about while 
telling her of Jesus — ^the kingdom of heaven. Then in a soft, 
never-to-be-forgotten tone of voice she said, "When Missie 
" come to heaven, look out me." She appeared quite sensible of 


her approaching end, and said, " Me thmk me gone just now." 
I answered, " Jesus will soon take you, Caroline ; you will not 
"wait long." She afterwards said, "Me no sorry me never 
" get better. Drual (the blacks) beat lubra always — ^like kill 
"me many times; no husband look out me now — ^no black 
"woman care for me, only 'marton, marton, white-neer' 
(good, good, white woman) ; no like 'nother one white woman, 
what no care for poor black lubra." It was also very pleasing 


to observe that she told her girls to love '* Missie" as their 

The night before she died I asked her whether I shoidd stay 
with her, she replied, " No ; brother stop with me." Durins 
that night she told her brother and children that she would 
leave them the next day, and that then myself and Mrs. Mao- 
Dermot would take care of them. She added, '* Father 

" belonging to you dead, Maria. Mr. W good one gentle- 

'* man.'' These expressions poor Caroline's brother repeated to 
us after her decease — affecting indeed to the hardest heart ! 

I hurried to the ngoorla next morning, and found her appa- 
rently better than usual. I left her for a few minutes, tellmg 
her 1 would immediately return ; but before I could do so her 
daughter came running, breathless, and said, '* Mother wants 
'* you, Missie ; she said she is dying." I was of course by her 
rough bed at once ; but she spoke no more, although about two 
hours elapsed ere her spirit took its flight to the eternal state. 
In vain her husband called to her and shook her body ; savage 
as he was, however, he could not, on my assuring him of her ' 
death, refrain from a flood of tears. He subsequently per- 
formed such final duties to poor Caroline's remains as lay in his 
power. He fanned her, prevented the flies from approaching, 
and afterwards rolled the body in the blankets, burnt her few 
household articles, and joined in the funeral procession. 

Her brother. Jemmy, with our family, joined in the pro- 
cession. Her body was interred in our own cemetery. A psalm 
was read by Mr. Smith, and prayer offered; and then her 
husband and her brother covered her body with earth. Maria 
and Annie, like thoughtless children, shed but a few tears at 
their great loss; and I took them under my care from that time, 
6th February, 1868. I was comforted by the consideration of 
this passage of God's word, '* I was found of them that sought 
" me not ;" my earnest petition having been, together with Mr. 
Smith and Mrs. MacDermot, " Save this one soul, for Thy name's 
" sake." I felt a conviction within myself that God had indeed 
saved her at the eleventh hour. 

Mr. Smith having taken the two children under his care, they 
came to live henceforward a new life — to be trained in the 
practices of civilised society, to forget their wandering unsettled 
habits, and to be educated according to European and Christian 


ideas. It was not without some apprehension of non-success — 
for unless a divine power preserved them, it is easily to be seen 
that the evil-disposed of either race might prevail over such 
unformed characters as these girls possessed, and lead them 
astray. I comforted Mr. Smith sometimes by recalling to his 
memory how strikingly a Divine Providence was exhibited in 
the mother having been changed as from a savage to a lamb, 
and in her darling ones having been left to our instruction and 
care. This was the Lord's doing, and was marvellous in our 
eyes ; and in the event, as will be seen, Qod answered our 
expectation even by the fulfilment of our every desire. Maria 
was now about nine years of age ; Annie, the younger, about 
ei^ht years. Maria was comparatively of a fair complexion, 
with something very pleasing about her countenance and 
manners. Annie was of a darker cast — ^her heavy brows, 
black eyes, dark brown hair, and slender legs, made her 
possess a much closer resemblance to the true aborigine. 
At this early age even they were familiar with the vices 
of drunkenness, swearing, smoking, lying, cursing, and 
fighting, and were also gifted with the ability to dance and 
sinff. Conscious that the Gospel alone could effect that change 
which would result in submission, contentment, and the other 
graces of the spirit, we were anxious to draw their attention to 
tiie good tidings as frequently as possible. The other half-caste 

inmate of our house, Jenny M , felt herself almost qualified 

to be their instructor, on account of her earlier abode in our 
home circle. As Mr. Smith was a teacher at Mount Gambier, 
these three girls had the advantage of Sabbath and day-school in- 
struction. First he had to correct their mode of speaking, and 
teach them good English. It was a great trial to them when 
rude children lifted the finger of scorn — for they were keenly 
sensible of unkindness, and would hide their heads in some 
comer ; so also the customary confinement of 'school was felt a 
good deal at first. The kindness and respect, however, that 
they received from the family soon convinced them that 
they were not treated by us as inferior to our own race. 
It was pleasant, truly, to see them with their teacher and his 
daughters skipping and jumping on their road homeward from 
school. A few months brought a great change to the girls, both 
in body and mind. It was a hard task to them to relinquish 


their mother tongue; but on aceount of one of our number 
bein^ an interpreter, their progress in English was pret^rapid. 
Mana in particuhir we found to be very intelligent. Alter five 
months' instruction she said to Jemmy, ** I am so glad that I 
** came here ; I can now learn about Jesus. If I had not come 

I would not know how to pray, for no creature ever told us ; 

nor had we any mother before — ^that good Jesus makes me 

flad. Mr. Young, our Sunday School teacher, tells me about 
esus — and I can sing the * Happy Land.' " At another time 
they said — ^^ We hear now many things that we never heard 
** before from whites. We were either blind or dumb then, or 
else they did not care for us, only wanting our services to 
bring them wood and water, and mother's labor in washing ; 
*' and so we were thought of as dogs — we might stand at their 
'* door and, they would give us a bone." Again, one of them 
said, *' I am so glad, when I go to school, to see so many nice 
*' things. I wish I could tell Eliza, for poor Eliza is wild, with 
*' her mother. I will speak to Jesus for poor Eliza, that she may 
*' be brought to mother." This Eliza was a playmate of theirs 
— also a half-caste. Another interesting remark was made to 
this effect — "Let me think now what I will do by-and-bye 
*' when I shall have learned at school all about Jesus. If I get 
plenty of money I will build a large house ; and then I will go 
through the bush and bring all the black children to mother, 
who will take core of them. Father will teach them to sing 
" * Oh, that will be joyful,' and I will try and teach them to 
*^ know something about heaven. They curse and swear, and 
*^ yet think it is right because white man laugh at them, and 
" say, ' Very good, you picaninny.' " We did watch, indeed, 
for the dawning of day upon their souls. As to Annie in 
particular, she was very thoughtful ; sometimes, indeed, suUen 
and gloomy. For some time she sought to indulge herself in a 
pipe occasionally behind a log or bush, and we had to watch 
ner and prevent ner persisting in so filthy a habit. When angry, 
poor Annie would either close her lips in obstinate silence or 
else shout at the height of her voice, stamp her feet, and bite 
her pinafore or frock. I reasoned with her at such times, and 
desired Jane also to explain to Annie how bad it looked in 
pretty girls to be naughty and rude. These children, as 
they rose from their low depraved life, manifested a great 



taste for dress, and sought the notice and approbation of 
friends (of our race) ; and in proportion as these dispositions 
grew in them, did they exhibit hatred and disgust towards the 
rude and savage habits they had so lately practised. I took 
them with me to the Presbyterian Church, and my soul rejoiced 
to know that Qod had honored me in guiding their ways towards 
heaven. Maria was of a sickly constitution, and suffered from 
one sickness after another. In these seasons they proved Dr. 
Wehl to be an attentive friend to them. It would seem that 
their blood manifested a corrupt and impoverished condition — 
probably from scanty and improper food at an earlier period in 
their life. Rheumatism in their limbs, severe colds, and coughs 
were their chief ailments — ^and were, indeed, of a sufficiently 
tnring nature. While poor Maria was so sreat a sufferer we did 
all that lay in our power for her, and within our neighborhood 
other kind friends also lent their assistance. From the Govern- 
ment I received for each child's maintenance sixpence per day, 
or one pound per month. Every little amount in money, or 
otherwise, enabled us the more widely to afford clothing 
to the naked and food to the hungry amongst our neglected 
and suffering fellow-creatures. When in want, I used to 
lead them to the Father of orphans, and ask Him in the 
simplicity of a child to give to these three whom I had in 
charge tnat which was wanted; and on our requests being 
answered, I would lead them to a private place and tell them to 
thank God for this frock or that hat (as it might be), which, in 
His providence, had just been supplied them. On May 20th, 
1859, the three aborigmal girls, Jenny, Maria, and Annie, were 
baptised — after a careful examination, with most satisfactory 
results, by Mr. Hill, a Wesleyan Missionary, on his way to the 
Fiji Islands. Each one of them was presented with a copy of 
God's Holy Word, which was ever valued by these wards of 
ours — ^now professing Christians, as .well as civilised residents 
among their European fellow-creatures. Mr. Smith being now 
laid aside by sickness, I thought it advisable to let Maria go to 
service, by which her manners and habits might be still further 
improved. This was therefore done ; and at the same time Annie 
became reader to Mr. Smith, when he was unable (as was now 
often the case) to read himself. Her reading was clear and dis- 
tinct ; and he often said during his illness, " I have received more 


'* benefit from poor Annie, in the simplicity of her reading, than 
'* from all those orators." When he became blind Annie was 
his ^de in the short walks which he took ; and once becoming 
giddy when walking near the house, his fall was rendered less 
tiian it might have been by poor Annie, whose outstretched 
arms did something to prevent the accident being more severe. 
Mr. Smith did not withhold the meed of praise which was due 
to such conduct ; and as she knew and anticipated his usual 
wants, so he, on his part, had always some little trifle to con- 
tribute to her enjoyment — imparted such items of information 
as were adapted to be stored up in her memory, and more than 
all endeavored to lead the youthful mind of his attendant to a 
Divine Saviour. 

Maria, in her new situation, gave much satisfaction to her 
employers. One Sabbath morning; she came to us very early, 
ana meeting me at the door exclaimed in much excitement, 
" Mother, I have had a dream about father." She then related 
her dream ; she thought she was in the prayer meeting (at my 
house) — " Father came in : he sang, ' Begone unbelief ! My Saviour 
" ' is near ;' after singing he prayed, and then expired. I awoke," 
said she, '* and got up to the fire. I did not like to leave Johnny 
*' and come to see father. I cried awhile and went to bed again. 
" I dreamed in a similar way. I was crying for father — my 
** heart was sorry. I came soon to the Sabbath School, that 
" before it commenced I might have time to see what was the 
" matter." We went into the bed-room, and I told her that 
her father was very ill, that he had fallen over the bed the 
previous night, and struck his head on a piece of wood and in- 
jured his eyebrow — being still very feverish. Maria was not 
satisfied until she had seen him. She asked him, *' Father, are 
" you better ? " in a soft tone of voice ; and he replied that he 
fell over the bed recently and had been hurt ; upon this she re- 
lated to him her dream. Soon after I was walking with him a 
few yards from the house, supporting him as well as I could, 
Mana came up to us, saying, ** I am so glad to see father out." 
Soon he went into his bed-room again — " Come Maria, come 
" girls," said he, " we will sing * Begone unbelief ! My Saviour 
" ' is near.' " They all sung this hvmn through for the last time 
with their beloved teacher, for he nad never again power to sing 
'*. Qarth. The fall he received, together with his previous 


painful affliction, proved too mucli for him. Maria and the rest 
stood by his death bed whilst he bestowed on them his blessing, 
told them to be good and to love Jesus, to whom he was going, 
and to whom, when they died, he hoped they too woiUd eo. 
The three aboriginal girls joined with the rest in singing, as ne 
had desired, ''The hour of my departure's come." He then 
fell asleep in Jesus, and the poor girls mourned truly for him — - 
more than they had done for their mother. Maria soon after 
had to return to mc through sickness, and was ill and under the 
care of Dr. Wehl a long time. I had to clothe her, for which 
she showed true gratitude ; and after the lapse of some months 
I got her into a respectable family. She showed herself a 
trustworthy and active servant, and became a great favorite 
with the old gentleman, her employer, for whom she had to 
watch the store and take down goods from the shelves. 
Dressed smartly in her little blue frock, she became a great 
favorite also of the customers. But not long was she to remain 
here. An illness, which proved fatal, seized her master, and it 
became Maria's anxiety to take her bible and choose every op- 
portunityr of reading to him for his improvement and comfort. 
She could cherish but little hope in regard to his soul, but the 
prayers which she sent up on his behalf were many and earnest. 
On his decease (shortly after^ Maria found herself friendless ; 
and about the same time injuring herself in a faU, I brought 
her back again to her former home, and food, clothing, and 
medical attendance were all necessary ; the latter was kindly 
given by Dr. Wehl. Again she was in health, and suited her- 
self with a situation in a German family, at four shiUin^ per 
week wage ; but feeling the effect of that fall return, sne un- 
fortunately was compelled to relinquish service again. The care 
of friends and ease from labor soon wrought a change for the 
better ; and my own health at this time bemg very indifferent, 
and funds being low (for Maria had been able to make no 
sftvings), we again looked for Providence to open the way before 

her. This proved to be with a kind family named McC , 

where she was employed as nurse ; still holding to the principles 
instilled by Mr. Smith, and proving herself a trustworthy girl. 
It was a great trial for her to remove to so great a distance 
from us — as she said she thought she would live with me till 
she died. I endeavored to show that by continuing with me 


she would be leas able to help herself on my decease, which 
miffht rather be anticiDated than her own, and assured her that 

wiwout doubt Mr. ana Mrs. McC would be found to fill 

our place to her. When upwards of twelve months with this 
ieaamj she came to see us ; she told me she was very happy, 
that her employers were as kind to her as to their own children. 
She was much grieved to hear of my illness. I spoke to her 
then about the interest of her soul, when she said, ** I never 
'* forget to love Jesus — ^how often do I think of poor father (Mr. 
*^ Smith) and of his kind instruction." She requested permis- 
sion to take his hymn-book, which contained the hymns oef ore- 
mentioned, remarking, '* I will sing them to Mr. and Mrs. 

" McC ." After bending our knees in prayer to God we 

said " Qood-bye," and parted with the affectionate remark from 
Maria, accompanied by a sigh, " I do like the old home." On 

February 12tn, 1863, Mr. and Mrs. McC called with Maria 

to see me. I was at this time most seriously ill. Very kind 
remarks were made by them in reference to poor Maria's 
lameness, and they mentioned how greatly she sometimes 

suffered. Mrs. McC made me happy by speaking of the 

attachment which existed between Maria and her little charge, 
Johanna, and did not omit to show me how the little one's 
petticoat had been trimmed with crotchet — ^the handiwork of 
ner nurse. Maria was wearing, too, a pair of handsome earrings : 

these had been kindly bestowed by Mrs. McC as a reward 

for early rising. Tlio dear girl was indeed raised something 
above her mother's condition — being on horseback with the 
proper ^costume of an equestrienne. This much change can 
civilising influences bring about, looking at the exterior simply, 
and far greater in heart and head. At the interview, also, 
Maria's talents were highly spoken of, and her usefulness as 
nurse — in particular her natural taste for music ; and a promise 

made that she should be taught the piano. Annie McC , 

her sister, was of course all on tiptoe with pleasure — skipping 
across the floor, clasping her hands, and exclaiming, '* O ! 
" Maria, I am so happy to see you ; I do love you, and wish we 
" could stop together. To-night we shall have a great chat 
** about every thmg, shall we not ?" But Maria was occupied 
that evening in taking care of the baby, while the rest, including 
Annie, attended a missionary lecture delivered by the Rev. Mr. 


Paton. Annie paid the greatest attention to all that was said 
about the natives of the South Sea Islands, and observed par- 
ticularly the war instruments, &c., which were exhibited. She 
subsequently showed how fully she comprehended the remarks 
which had been made as to the dangers and privations of the 
Christian missionary. When he spoke of Jesus Christ and what 
he could do for ignorant and perishing sinners, Annie seemed 
greatly affected. She regretted much that I was not present, 
" for," said she, " he spoke so much like father.'* The follow- 
ing morning she was driven up, in company with Mr. and Mrs. 

McC-^ and Maria, to the residence of the Rev. J. Don ; and 

they were introduced by him to Mr. Paton, who most cordially 
conversed with them, and besought on them a blessing. Annie 
had been observed by Mr. Paton in the meeting of the previous 
night, and he now took the opportunity of making many 
enquiries relative to the two sisters. Such an interest should 
be shown, we do not hesitate to say, not by. ministers alone, 
but by aU members of the Christian church. Maria we now 
leave for a time with her kind and benevolent friends, Mr. and 

Mrs. McC , possessing opportunities of drinking at the 

crystal fountain of knowledge, and allowed indulgences which 
rendered her residence there more a home than a sphere of 
mere labor. 

I might even make bold to compare Maria, Annie, and Jenny 
with those who belong altogether to the Aryan race, and have 
had all the customary advantages of civilised ufe. As to Annie, 
she accumulated a good stock of useful information : she loved 
to read memoirs of pious children, and had often in her hand 
" Early Days," or some other of the good books bestowed as 
prizes from the Wesleyan Sabbath School, or from the day 
school. How different had she become since the time when she 
knew nothing beyond the little circle that she lived in. She 
was fond of perusing English newspapers in her spare moments, 
and was not now at all deficient in her ideas of geography. 
She had taken a great delight in " Uncle Tom*s Cabin," and 
whilst perusing it would often shed tears for the poor suffering 
slaves. By referring to such as poor " Topsy " I am enabled to 
point out how important ^e the privileges possessed by herself 
and her sister in having instruction and care, such as usually do 
not fall to the lot of the sable race, who are growing up almost 


in the some iffnorance and grossness as of old — ^without the 
knowledge of the one true Qod or of Jesus the Saviour. Annie 
was very attentiye to the Sabbath School. Wet or dry, and 
even when suffering from pain, she would be seen bound for the 
school, which was more than a mile distant;- and would often 
mention to my children the pleasure she experienced, as the 
Sabbath came round, in meeting with her dear teacher. Her 
teacher (Mrs. Qraham) said, on an occasion when Annie was 
absent, '* How much I miss Annie ; she is the leader in learning, 
" reading, and singing." Often in her conversation she wouM 
speak of father, of his way of singing, his great kindness, and 
the interesting anecdotes ne would relate. On one of her visits 
to his grave, with two of my younger children, they sat weeping 
while they talked of his goodness to them. Says one little 
thing, '* Father used to give us prunes and cakes." While the 
little group sat thus, there came a pretty bird, which sang its 
sweet notes over his grave. '* Hush !" said Annie, '* do not 
'* disturb the beautiful bird ; Qod sent it to sing that sweet note 
'* to father. That bird used to perch on the apple tree in the 
*' early morning. Father used to tell me not to disturb the 
** warbling bird, which was designed to afford us much pleasure 
" by its songs; and now, see how it comes to visit father's grave." 
On their return I was informed about the sweet bird, when I 
told them how vainly now the little bird sang, for that " father" 
(although his lifeless body was there) now listened in heaven to 
the singing of the holy angels. Annie evinced a true missionary 
spirit, desiring to teach the little black children the only way by 
which they could become happy and fi*ee from the savage 
habits of their gloomy lives. 

The girls, Maria and Annie, had an uncle named Jemmy, who 
for upwards of seven years resided with us. As a friend and 
relation of theirs, his sable companions in the tribe appointed 
him to act as their guardian. In order to test his Section 
for his nieces, I one day said to him that Maria wanted a 
pair of boots. He replied, " Well, well, me see. Got plenty 
" children — no father ; me see. No stupid this one head ; see, 
" me got no money ~by-and-bye me work — ^me get money. 
" Poor Maria get cold feet, get cough, then die perhaps." 
Next morning I found Jemmy very thoughtful, leaning his 
head on his hand, and glancing at me with a somewhat discon- 

Tiger's Children, with Mother. 


certed air. " Well," said I, " what is the matter, Jemmy ?" 
He replied, '* Well, well, me think a long>a this breast ; me 
" very sorry for master and you. Me say to God, * Where's 
^* ' good man give me money to get boots long-a Maria?' Me no 
" sleep all night ; but think, think. By-and-bye me teU you, 
" Missus." Jemmy went up to the township with a very 
sorrowful heart, and not knowing at all to whom he should 
apply. After soliloquizing upon the subject of his embarrass- 
ment, he bent his steps towards the shop of Mr. S , and 

entering, was accosted by that gentleman as follows : — " Well, 
" Jemimy, you not well, eh ? " Jemmy had to scratch his head, 

and could only respond, " Oh ! yes." Mr. S interrogated 

his visitor again, " Well, Jemmy, what is it you want ?" 
Jemimy looked round the shop in bewilderment. If he 
recollected what he did need, he doubtless recollected also that 
he had come to market without money. By this time, however, 
it became apparent to the kind shopkeeper that Jemmy was in 

distress ; and putting his hand into the till, Mr. S took out 

five shillings, which he presented to the poor confused fellow, 
who could not help demanding, " Who told you give me five 
" shillings ?" " God," replied the kind-hearted man. " Well, 
" well," said Jemmy, " now me sure God hear me ;" and there- 
upon he bought the needed boots for Maria, and returned to 
tell us in his own simple language, and in his own child-like 
faith, the little story of how the boots were provided. 

Jenny M , the third of our half-caste gu*ls, was bom at the 

Avenue Station, then the propei-ty of Mr. Power. Her father 
was a stockkeeper in the employ of that gentleman ; her mother 
was an aboriginal woman, named Wegearmin. 

After the lapse of many years her father became an innkeeper 
at Grey Town, Rivoli Bay. I asked him for the child to be 
given me, that I might train her up away from the vicious and 
degraded sphere in which otherwise it would be her lot to grow 
up. He replied to the effect that I was the only woman with 
whom he could leave (willingly) his little Jane ; but just then 
he did not like to hurt the mother's feelings by taking her 
forcibly away. In 1851 this^ man parted with his aboriginal 
concubines, and left the neighborhood. Jane was transimtted 


to the wife of the nearest innkeeper, and a message sent me by 
one of the blacks to the effect that when he had left I was to 
take possession of Jane. It was a fierce woman with whom I 
had to contend ; and as she had no family of her own, I could 
almost sympathise with her in the efforts she made to keep 
Jane. On the other hand, I could not but agree in the repre- 
sentations of Mr. Smith, that to take her &om such a house 
might most certainly be viewed as a measure warranted by a 
regard to her moral character in the future. Mr. Smith took 
this wise view of the matter — that the leadings of Providence 
were to be followed, and that we were not to be led by our 
impulse to any hasty step. 

In our efforts on behalf of the poor aborigines we met with 
contradiction and opposition sometimes from those who ought, 
in reason, to be only the authors of peaceful words and deeds. 
Our intention, however, was to rescue the immortal spirits of 
these wild beings, by God's help, from the dire consequences of 
ignorance and sin. One day, while I was at our summer-house 
— a mile from the Bay — I saw Wegearmin, with her child on 
her back, crossing the hill above the house. The sable beauty 
was escorted by a lover, to be reunited to her tribe. Upon my 
calling her she sat down until I came up to the spot. I took 
Jane off her back, and carried her in my arms to the house, 
saying to the others, '* Come, and get damper and tea.'' She 
followed, with the young savage, to the house, and the latter 
came in and sat do^vn. Soon his mood became really frightful, 
evidenced by his wild and staring eyes. At last I broke the 
silence, by saying, " You go long-a bush with *burrich' 
" (girl) ?" " Me thinkum," said the woman. " Hush," exclaimed 
my son (the interpreter), " we are all in danger of our lives." 
Conscious of our helplessness should the young blackfellow 
attack us, we were almost cold with terror. At that instant I 
heard the voice of a boy who was on the top of the hill. I 
shouted as loudly as possible, ** Call the shoemaker, quick !" 
Our neighbor, the shoemaker, thereupon left his work, and 
hastened to us, exclaiming, " What is the matter ?" for the boy 
divined that we were in alarm, by my voice, and his apprehen- 
sion was shared by our welcome friend. Taking courage to 
open the door to him, I said, " All right ;" upon which the 
young savage gathered up his instnmients of war, and went his 


way, dispatching Wegearmin and the child back again to the 

nbHcan with whom she had been staying. Thus did we escape 
m impending danger. W^earmin remained with her chud 
as long as she mought proper in the yicinity of the public-house 
I have referred to, and then, a few weeks haying elapsed, 
disappeared from that neighborhood and joined her tribe. 
After observing certain customs incumbent on her by the laws 
of the tribe, she was given in marriage to an ugly old black- 
fellow — whose favorite spouse, however, she had tJie honor of 

The name of her former lord, the father of Jane, became a 
word of terror to the natives, who greatly feared that he would 
come and retake possession of Wegearmin; and under these 
circumstances the question of the propriety of killing little Jane 
was greatly discussed. As soon as we received, through friendly 
blacks, this intelligence, we spoke boldly of Morgan's intention 
that Jane should be in our care, and sent messages to the effect 
that Jane must be sent to Rivoli Bay. Wegearmin's husband 
sent word, in reply to us, that if Mr. Smith and the interpreter 
would write him a letter, like another white gentleman, and if 
we would also pay him what Jane's value was, he would 
persuade her to relinquish Jane in our favor. Our reply to this 
was delivered through an aboriginal named Mary Ann, an 
intelligent motherly woman, and was to the effect that we did 
not buy or sell people, either white or black, and that conse- 
quently we declined to give any money for Jane. Mary Ann 
delivered the message to the native, and made him understand 
that his stepdaughter ought not to be sold like cattle, sheep, or 
opossum rugs. Jane passed another twelve months roaming the 
bush with her mother ; frequently they would call at the huts 
of the shepherds, &c. Occasionally a frock would be given to 
the girl; but according to her uncultivated mind there was 
more freedom in walking without clothes — and a piece of old 
blanket or a red handkerchief tied round the back of her neck, 
and hanging loosely over her shoulders and back, would quite 
content her. At last we began to despair of ever getting Jane 
from her savage kindred. While Mr. Smith, however, was one 
day busily engaged storing goods for the settlers, Cuneminar 
(the young man who had put us in bodily fear at the summer- 
house), came to tell him that whilst bringing Jane to ufi^ tiL<^ 


publican's wife, who desired to have her, had taken her off the 
dray into her house. This woman offered Cuneminar an old 

Eair of trousers to pacify him, and endeavored to prove that I 
ad too many to supply with damper and tea already. We 
could see that he was really sorry and vexed with himself for 
not having been cautious, and for not having avoided the inn, 
and passed by the hills. All his endeavors to recover Jane 
were in vain, and we had to submit to our disappointment. 

Jane was kept very close in the house, and a month or two 
passed away. But one night the man and his wife made a 
secret flight towards Victoria, leaving Jane in care of another 
couple, who were instructed by all means to prevent her from 
falling into the hands of the psalm-singers (ourselves). On the 
Monday after they left, this man who had charge of Jane, went 
to Guichen Bay, and on his return was accidentally drowned in 
a swamp. Soon after he left for Quichen Bay I saw Jane near 
my house, and went and took her in my arms. Carrying her 
in to Mr. Smith, " Now," said I, " I have gained my object." 
" Oh !" said he, " you have yet to fight the battle of tne tongue 
** for her." By-and-bye came the woman, in great anger, and 
informed me of the strict injunctions she had received from 
Jane's last possessors to keep her from us. I reasoned with her 
calmly, and told her the wishes of the father and of the 
mother's tiibe. Both left me at liberty to take and keep her 
when opportunity offered. The woman had, of coui'se, to 
return by licrselt to the desolate and forsaken inn. A day or 
two after a message came, requesting me to go and commimi- 
cate to her the distressing news of her husband's death. This 
I did, and was al6o compelled to bring her to our house, and 
maintain her until able to foi*ward her on to Guichen Bay. She 
confessed to us her regret now at the part she had taken, and 
was glad of the end of the matter, as concerned Jane, who, 
soon after, might be seen on the beach jumping and skipping 
about — ^but somewhat disconcerted at the sight of any natives 
who might chance to appear. 

Our task began now, which was to make Jane accustomed to 

the social habits prevalent among ourselves. She was by nature 

(or by ill training) extremely ready to tell a lie and to screen 

her own faults. The adults of her race, indeed, cherish some- 

what similar views, and usually deem ftome person to be guilty 


of haying bewitched them (as we should say) in every instance 
of sickness and ill fortune. 

Jane beean to learn her alphabet ; and Mr. Smith took much 
care in training her up, like our own family, in the fear of the 
Lord. She now began to grow more tractable and useful, 
following the example of the elder children, who were accus- 
tomed to perform little domestic duties. Sometimes they would 
arrange the plates, cups, and saucers, sometimes sweep the 
rooms, sometimes dress a doll. One winter's evening, all being 
assembled round a comfortable fire, Mr. Smith began to expound 
to them that portion of Scripture where it is related how Jezebel 
" painted her face and tired her head, and looked out of the 
" window," &c. Jane stood most attentively, her eyes fixed on 
him, believing apparently that the vividly drawn picture was 
before her. He then came to the words, "Who is on my 
" side— who ?" — at which his voice was raised with consider- 
able animation, and so maintained while he again repeated, 
" Throw her down ; so they threw her down, and some of her 
" blood was sprinkled on the wall " (see 2 Kings, ix. 30-33). 
Jane at this grasped the comer of the chinmey place, and 
looking up at the window, exclaimed, " Poor Jane was so 
•* frightened when the three men threw her down !" As she 
turned to me I could discern that she was greatly stirred ; but 
we had reason afterwards to consider the shock of a beneficial 
nature, for she was evidently awakened to higher ideas than 
were wont to visit her. Above all, we rejoiced that the Qospel 
does not need argument indispensably. 

Jane's mind was daily led to Jesus at this time by her 

favorite playmate, my little daughter, M E . My 

child was extremely delicate — ripening, alas! for the 
grave. The little native girls had in her a sweet example and 

amiable instructor. Jane was taught by M to read ; and 

I am reminded here of an amusing incident. One day, duly 
seated in her arm-chair, with pointer in hand, and the large 

alphabet properly adjusted — " Come, now," said M , "be a 

" good girl, Jane ; be better than Topsy, and don't say ' don't 
" • know.* " Before this prefatory address was fully complete, 
down comes chair, little teacher and all. Amidst loud laughter 
was heard a call, " Lift your mistress, scholars, won't you ?" 
which naive sally of poor M 's compelled me to join m the 


chorus of mirth. On the pleasant beach, or under the green 
bushes, the little group would assemble for prayers, of 
which the burden was that Jane might be united with ihem 
in heaven. While at play Jane would stop to enquire, 

" M , what does God do r" M answered to the effect 

that everything had been made by Him. The next enquiry 

by Jane was, " Did God make me?" M replied in the 

affirmative. ** Can God see me under this place," resumed 

Jane. M responded that He could, and that when they 

were naughty He knew it. 

We now removed from Rivoli Bay to Mount Gambler, and 
four months afterwards we settled on some land there, and 
had to encounter those discomforts connected with a bush 

life. The saddest result of our exposure was that M 

took cold, and inflammation of the lungs set in. After only 
a fortnight's illness, death was permitted to remove her 
from our midst in her eighth year. On the day she had 
been taken ill she had been playing with her two younger 
sisters and Jane. Their innocent little game was playing at 
"housekeeping." Their mistress was giving her orders ; one of 
the others was cooking, another cleaning house, &o. Whilst 

thus happily engaged in their domestic duties, M called on 

them to ]oin her in a '* prayer meeting," and each one in their 
turn, Jane included, knelt humbly before liim whose anointed 
Saviour said, " Forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 

" heaven." Soon Jane came to me and said M was not 

well, '*her face so red, and her feet cold," said Jane. I 
hastened to my little daughter, and brought her within ; so she 
laid her head on my lap while her extremities were being 
warmed and chafed by the fire. Mr. Smith told poor Jane, who 
was her constant attendant, and the others, that it was to be 

feared that M was about leaving them — that she was 

doubtless prepared to be happy for ever in glory. 

The day previous to her removal to that better world, she 
caused her parents, brothers, sisters, and companions, to gather 
around, specifying Jane by name. She glanced calmly at each 
sorrowful face in silence ; but Jane was privileged to render her 
the last little service, by supplying her at her request with a 
glass of water. To her last fareweU she added the request that 
her father woidd speak to all her companions frequenUy of the 


J'oys of heayen, and assured us she was very happy, and could 
tear the songs of the birds ''praising God." At daybreak 

M *s spirit had left, on its way to a brighter home in the 

skies. Jane was extremely sorrowful, yet could scarcely belieye 
she had really lost her dear little teacher so long as she lay on 
the snowy bed, encircled by the scattered roses. But this 
respite was but short, and Jane had to join us in burying 
beneath the sod the form so much beloyed. No more could 
she gather the wild flowers, as had been her wont, to adorn 

dear M 's head, nor join with her again in artless praise or 

prayer. A few days after the funeral, Jane, with others, 
occupied herself in gathering buttercups and other wild flowers. 
Eyery accustomed haunt brought to their memories some past 
scene ; so they naturally directed their footsteps towards the 
small fresh graye where they had seen her interred. Mr. Smith, 
and myself could not but be touched at their simple but sweet 

expressions ; and my husband informed poor Jane that M 

was, as to her spirit, present with the Lord, and that her tongue 
would utter no more until all the dead were quickened. Jane 
had lost, we all knew, a kind friend, who was able towards her 
to blend mirth with instruction, and was most gratefully 
remembered amongst a few others, less beloyed, perhaps, who 
could pity, as she said, " a poor black girl, running wild in the 
" bush.'' One day, in great haste, Jane and the others came 
running to the house, exclaiming " Maggie ! Maggie !" — mean- 
ing her mother. " Oh ! blackfellow take me away !" She ran 
behind me, caught hold of my dress, and screamed '* I won't eo 
" with Maggie. I silenced her cries by promising that she 
should not be taken away. At last the natiyes arrived, 
Wegearmin stood like a statue at the door, overpowered witk 
the thought, as she gazed on us, that her own child was afraid 
to look on her. One leap she gave, as if to snatch her little 
daughter to herself ; but Jane screamed in extreme terror, and. 
seemed ready to pass into a fit. To please the poor mother, I 
placed the girl (Jane) between us, confidently assuring her first 
that Maggie should not be suffered to take her away to tlie 
blacks. Giving vent to her erief in a loud yell, she exclaimed 
in her own tongue, '* That white woman makes my child forget 
'* her language ; she will not speak to me !" On tiie next occa- 
sion that Maggie visited ns I insisted on Jane's speaking for 


a while to her mother, and on her making her some little 
present, as I felt we had no reason to induce forgetfulness of 
that respect due at all times to parents. 

llie last time Wegearmin came to see Jane, when leaving, 
she bade her be a good girl, and do what we told her. She 
would have stayed a longer time ; but one of the blacks threw 
a spear at her, though without effect. Upon this she became 
exasperated, and used bad language, which we feared the girls 
would learn if repeated, and so she was sent away. Before 
departing she gave Jane a bunch of emu feathers (which of 
course are choice and valuable in their eyes) to wear in her hat. 
I sincerely sympathised with the poor mother, who undoubtedly 
loved Jane — ^who was, it would seem, her only child. Several 
attempts were made by the blacks to get Jane fi*om me. 
One offered me a few shillings as the purchase-money of 
Wegearmin's daughter ; but we were of course confident as to 
what our duty was, and could not think of undoing all thdt had 
been accomplished by relinquishinc; her. Mr. Smith being a 
teacher, Jane had good opportunities of learning knowledge. 
Ere long she could read well and distinctly — she sought, and 
became capable of apprehending " the truth as it is in Jesus." 
She went to service, and gave satisfaction to her employers as a 
modest and prudent girl. Jane was unfortunately afflicted with 
a tendency to inflammation of the lungs — a complaint which I 
often observed the aborigines seemed predisposed to. Probably 
their exposure to inclement weather, conjoined witli their 
decaying vigor of late years, renders them generally defective in 
these organs. ^Vlule at service she seemed to act up to my 
advice well, and abstained, I understand, from falsehood, tale- 
bearing, and such-like crimes. For my part, I endeavored that 
she should only find a home with people of pious or of virtuous 
principles, where a blessing might be expected from God, and 
where ideas of eternity should not be banished. When about 
to take a situation, or when one had been left when distress 
came, or sickness befell, we accustomed ourselves to kneel down 
— Jane and I — that our voices might ascend, and our desires be 
known to Him who heareth at all times; and at all seasons have 
friends been raised up as they were wanted, to assist my dear 
half-castes. As my husband's days drew to a close, he would 
often express bis entire satisfactioii at the result of such poor 



attempts as we had been able to make for the benefit of the 
aboriginal race, and his desire that opportunities had been more 
largely afforded us. In these sentiments I shared myself ; and 
most willingly have I endured those discomforts, and that 
expenditure of time and patience, which has been my own con- 
tribution to the interests of the natives. Nor did we remain 
without a reward. 

A few weeks previous to Mr. Smith's decease, Jane's sins 
were openly confessed — her sins and her trust in Jesus. At 
this serious period of her history she was greatly affected by 
dreaming that I had died; but, by whatever special means, 
saving grace did come. We rejoiced, and angels in glory with 
us, over outward and visible evidences of a conversion from 
nature's darkness effected in the girl whose brief history has 
been narrated. 


On the 25th April, 1864, I was taking a walk in the garden 
as Parchbui-min, alias Jemmy, was engaged cleaning the weeds 
from the gooseberry bushes. I accosted him. He replied, 
" Well, weU ! so many no good — that one grow bery quick — 
" can't keep'em that one down ; but finger pull up better — never 
" mind' em spade." I said that there were now plenty of weeds 
in the garden, owing to the rain which had fallen. Jemmy re- 
sponded, ** Oh ! yes ;" and then raising his head and bestowing 
a scratch upon it, resumed, " Me think'em no more blackfellow 

grow, only soon die— -no more brother — poor fellow me ! 

Brother Jerry and ' malanne ' (wife) dead — Bobby soon die. 

Me don't know what for Jerry die. Bobby get quick bad — 
*' him very sick six months : you go see him. Missus — ^him 
** want' em you." I said, " When your good brother Jerry died, I 
** told you to bring poor Bobby here ; he would be better attended 
** than in his ngoorla." " Well," said Jemmy, " me tell him 
" come ; him always say * yes, me come.* No more walk, me 
"think — me very sorry — that one good boy — me tell him of 
" that good one place. When brother Jerry sick, me tell him 
" what you say, * Pray to Jesus Christ * — Bobby there when me 
" tell him. 'Nother one, Harry, tell him what you say, that one 
" time you sick, like die ; poor Jerry say, him very glad along-a 
" heart — him like to go along-a heaven. Jerry teU me to tell 




you, Missus, Bobby hear 'em brother tell blackfellow — ^no 
say bad words — no drink — ^blackfellow no hear good one man 
say, ' Go to hell :' you see me no stupid — ^me no forget what 
"good Mr. Smith belonging to you say — ^no forget that one 
'* prayer learn' em me one long time ago, when brother long-a 
'*you and children/' I learned from my faithful servant. 
Jemmy, thait sixteen of his relations had now passed away to 
the silent tomb, and that Bobby, whom he dearly loved, was the 
last of his brothers. On the 26th I visited poor Bobbv. I 
found him sitting in his ngoorla, much exhausted and fatigued 
after being removed by his friends to a chosen spot in 

Mr. M 's paddock, opposite to the Wesleyan Chapel. 

Five ngoorlas had been erected, each family living separate. 
When the uproar of the dogs had been silenced by sharp blows 
from the " werrin " by Jacktaboi, I was welcomed by the yoimg 
man, Bobby. After shaking hands, he politely begged me to 
sit down near him on a little box, which served, he told me, to 
support his head when he was worse and unable to lie down. 
I said to him ^^ You are very ill, my son." He said that he was, 
and complained much of tho difficulty of breathing, of pain in 
his side, of weakness and inability to walk, and of want oi sleep. 
He said that drunken people and a great many noisy dogs ren- 
dered matters worse as to rest. He said also that he wished to 
be quite away from the public-house, where no drunken man 
could come. I asked him whether his illness were brought on 
through diink and lying on damp ground. His reply was to 
to the effect that he never cared to drink grog, and he always 
had a dry bed. I said to him, " How long have you been ill r" 
He replied, *' Since shearing time." " Well, my son," said I, 
" do you think you will get better ?" "I don't Imow — me very 
" weak." " If you do not giet better, where do you think your 
" ' boong ' (soul) will go to after death ?" " Me don't know." 
" Would you like to go to heaven with me and see Jesus Christ, 
'* the Son of God, and be happy for ever." " Oh, yes," he said, 
removing a pannican of hot tea that had been cooling beside 
him. " If you, my son," said I, '* will speak to Jesus Christ 
'* and say, ' Jesus Christ, take poor Bobby to heaven — give him 
" * a good heart,' he will hear you." He listened with the sim- 
plicity of a child. I told him Jesus Christ would make his soul 
happy — that his happiness would be better than the happiness 


he had had on earth with his friends, in dancing at their 
** mnrapena " (hunting meeting). The joy he had then felt 
had been mixed with sorrow and pain, but he must ask Jesus 
Christ to make him happy ; He would hear him and render his 
soul happy for ever. That without love for Jesus Christ his soul 
would be lost. I felt, indeed, warmed with love towards him. 
" Oh ! pity and instruct the ignorant ; comfort the feeble- 
-minded; snatch this soul as a brand from the burning; fill 
" him with joy and peace in believing. Is not this yoimg heathen 
" thine, Lord ?" These were the breathings of my soul for 
the dying. In calm and silent aspect, his eyes fixed on the 
ground, he drank in the sacred truth. He said to me, " Me pray 
" to that One you tell." I asked him, " Would you wish me to 
" speak to Jesus Christ for you ?" He desired me to do so. He 
drew the attention of a male and a female aborigine, who were 
completing his ngoorla, upon which they came, bowed down 
their heads, and joined in our worship. As we four bowed thus 
in the Divine Presence, I felt strong in faith, believing Jesus 
Christ died to save this poor degraded son of Adam ; that He 
indeed gave Himself a ransom for his soul. Before I left him, 
when putting the question to him, " Would he wish to go to 
" heaven and see Jesus ?" tears dropped from his eyes. I bade 
him good-bye, and said that if he would come to my house I 
should see that he was attended to by my family and his brother 
Jemmy, who had resided with my family for eight years. He 
objected that he could not walk. I offered to send a cart, and 
engaged one, so that good friends beside myself should visit him 
and speak of Jesus Christ. Poor fellow ! I observed his breath- 
ing to be very laborious : so I left him, and proceeded to call on 
old King William, who was also sick in his ngoorla. I was cor- 
dially received by himself and the three lubras whom I found in 
attendance. He was informed by old Queen Mary who had 
called on him. He was to all appearance blind and somewhat 
deaf. The poor old fellow, who, on my arrival, was reclining in 
his blanket before the fire, apologised that until he heard my 
name he had been sleeping. He told me that he expected soon 
to die — ^and, indeed, he was reduced to a skeleton. His grey 
hair and wrinkled face gave signs of the sixty years which had, 
I believe, passed over his head. He told me that nearly all his 
friends were dead, and that I was his sister. I pointed him to 


the Sayioiur, who was manifested for the enlightenment of 
heathen darkness ; and I was occupied in prayer that the ex- 
press image of Jesus might supersede the corrupt natural heart 
of the aged king. I saw him no more. 

Three days after my visit to the natives' camp, as narrated, a 
message was sent to me early in the morning to the effect that 
the black people wanted me to go and speak to Bobby, who 
seemed near death. I was desired to hasten, and informed that 
many were waiting to hear mc address the d3dng young man. I 
followed my guide, who took the '* short cut ** through the pad- 
dock, which made a distance of about a mile. As we came in 
siffht of the ngoorla. Jemmy said, '* Bobby not dead ; me see 
"lubra walk about — 'em no cry." When we entered, I felt 
within an amazement and a joy which seemed forerunners of the 
true satisfaction for which soon after I had abundant cause. 
Five men and four women were seated around the fire. The 
poor fellow whom I went to see was sitting between two men, 
leaning his head on the shoulder of the one on his left, evidently 
near to the final struggle. His breath was quick. The solem- 
nity and silence of the scene caused emotion which I shall ever 
remember. Our silence was broken by his saluting me, and by 
the greetings of all present. I enquired of Bobby if he knew 
me. ** Oh, yes,*' he answered in low tones, " Mrs. Smith.'* His 
left-hand friend rose and made room for me to occupy his posi- 
tion, while another spread a blanket for me to sit down upon. 
As I sat down, his friend on the other side took my hand and 
placed it on poor Bobby's chest, that I might perceive the 
rattling from his lungs. " My son," said I, '* you are very ill — 
you will soon die ; did you yet pray to Jesus Christ ?" His 
countenance lighted up, and raising his head he was able to say, 
" Me never lose'em that one way — always, always, me think." 
I asked him then whether he was happy. He said, " Me sorry 
" when me think of that one bad place — ^me glad when me think 
'* of Jesus Christ." " You speak to Him ; Jesus will hear you : 
" He will take your soul to heaven," said I. Bobby, lifting his 
eyes to heaven, uttered in a very low tone of voice some few 
words, of which I caught only the name of Christ as tliey died 
away on his lips. What sweetness was it to my heart that this 
jDrecious name was used thus among his last words. I told him 
that Cbiist was doubtless present ', tliat it was His love to us 


made our souls happy. I told him, putting my hand beside 
his swarthy ones, that there would, in heaven, be no distinction 
of race or color. " Oh ! yes, oh ! yes," he ejaculated, and my 
attentive black friends surrounding us gave evidence of their 
acceptance of this truth. Bobby said, " Me soon go to that one 
" good place," and a cheering response rose from each one pre- 
sent. The poor fellow now seemed extremely exhausted. His 
pulse was very slow. For a moment he seemed as if he was in a 
tainting fit, and bowed down his head. At this instant one of 
the natives, crawling on his hands up to poor Bobby, whispered 
to him, " What Mrs. Smith say is the right way for you to think 
" of ; never lose' em that way. A secret rapture seenied there- 
upon to seize his soul, and a glorious vision to present itself to 
him. Bobby raised himself to a sitting posture, and his eyes 
were apparently becoming dim, but with a smiling countenance 
he exclaimed to me, "Me see Him — ^me see Him!" The lovely 
image of Jesus is ere long to be reproduced in even this humble 
believer. All that were present were in profound silence, and I 
trust that God's Spirit was in the midst of us. In such language 
a9 this I sought to give the glory to God — " Lord, Thou art 
" here ; my soul doth magnify Thy name. This day hast Thou 
" given proof to us that the soul of this dying heathen has been 
" quickened by Thee. By Thy Spirit he has thus been brought 
'* out of darkness into Thy marvellous light. It hath pleased 
" Thee this day to reveal ITiy Son to us." In such terms as 
these I lifted up my voice to heaven, whilst a devout and silent 
attention was cheerfully given by the little aboriginal flock. 
After partaking of some trifling refreshment, which I had 
brought him, he seemed to revive. I promised them that I 
would call on Dr. Singleton and desire lum to come and speak 
of the dying love of Jesus to poor black men. I felt that I 
could with truth speak thus of Dr. Singleton, who is now known 
to the poor aborigines as a kind gentleman, and sincerely 
anxious for their temporal and spiritual good. Bobby then took 
my hand and bade me good-bye. Jemmy went with me to the 
residence of Dr. Singleton, who was not at home at that time, 
but we took the liberty of leaving a message, perfectly believing 
he would not fail to do in our cause whatever lay in his power. 
Soon afterwards I learned that Dr. Singleton was guided by 
Jemmy to the wurla of his sick brother Bobby, where the same 


company that I have spoken of were awaiting his arrival. The 
Divine Presence seemed to be again in their midst, and Dr. 
Singleton was both glad and earnest as he gave to the dying 
man such simple exhortations as were adapted to his capacity 
and condition, and sought to pour the calm-giving solace of the 
gospel into the ears of the dying native. 

This kind gentleman did not content himself with a single 
visit, for, doubtless, he found it '* good to be there ;" and, as he 
afterwards said, he gained true consolation himself from the 
Word that he thus dispensed. On enquiring of one of their 
number how Bobby was, " Very bad," was the reply, " but the 
" new doctor gave him very good medicine." I told him to give 
my love to Bobby. The night before he was removed to Ellis's 
station, at which place he received much attention, he said to 
his brother Jemmy, *' You tell Missus Smith this heart kind to 
*' her and children, and you, brother ; my heart glad when me 
" go that way she tell me." The day before Bobby died Dr. 
Singleton was by his bedside, and told him he was praying for 
him. On the day of his death Bobby called his fellow-aborigi- 
nals together and gave them the most excellent advice, t.^., to 
abstain from swearing and the use of any other bad language, 
and from drink. He desired them to follow him to heaven, and 
to inform Dr. Singleton and myself that '* He was going away 
" to Jesus, and that his soul was glad." He asked one of his 
friends, whom he loved, to wash his face and comb his hair, and 
after she had done so he lay down on his pillow and expired. 
As remarked by his friend, " he looked very good in death," 
He died 3rd May, 1864. Death came to him with fiiendly 
hand, and removed him away from pain, and sickness, and con- 
tempt, and ended both his temptations and his transgressions. 
The example which he furnished of true faith and love, and con- 
sequent peace and joy, seemed to be most beneficial to the rest 
of his tribe. 

A few days after Bobby's death King William was carried to 
his grave by his friends without pomp or splendour. One of 
the number, called Jim Crow, passed away nine months after 
to the silent land, giving evidence to the truth he received 
from the Rev. Mr. Caldwell. Dr. Singleton kindly instructed 
him in the path of truth and happiness. His last testimony was, 
waSf ''BouDg de yan canmanea God " (My soul is going to God). 


The familiar words of a hymn most aptly express the dying 
sentiments of Caroline and her two brothers, Jerry and Bobby — 

** When death o'er nature shall prevail. 
And all the powers of language fail, 
Joy through my sorrowing eyes shall hreak. 
And mean the thanks I cannot speak/' 


\The following sketches are extracted fivm the report of the 
home for the six months ending December 31J/, 1867. J 


Boonduin, otherwise called " Tailor Tommy," died on the 9th 
August, 1 867, a meek and humble Christian. He was possessed of 
a shrewd mind and disposition. He belonged to the Rivoli Bay 
tribe, and was the sole survivor of his family. Twenty-two 
years previous he first ventured to visit " the white woman " and 
her family, and, gradually ^ning confidence through the kind- 
ness shown him, he carried away a good impression of us, and 
shortly returned with other natives. He instructed my son in 
the Booandik dialect during his residence with us, and, 
in return, received religious instruction from my late husband 
and Boonduin's pupil, who used unwearied perseverance in 
learning the dialect in order to conununicate to the heathen 
around us the truth as it is in the Lord Jesus Christ. Boonduin 
carried away a good stock of knowledge, and communicated it 
to those of. his race with whom he came in contact during that 

Eeriod of twenty-two years. For the last two years of his life 
e suffered severely from asthma. He was much respected by 
settlers, who gave him employment in consequence of his 
industry and honesty. When at length unable to work, he 
sought an asylmn at the Aborigines' Home, Mount Gambier. 
Dunne the remainder of his life he showed much attachment to 
me, whom he called his " white mother," and to my family. 
He often referred to by-gone days, when his tribe was numerous 
and strong, and all ahke were in a wild and savage state. He 
showed gratitude for the interest taken in his welfare, several 
instances of which occurred during his stay at the Home, and 
his frequent visits to the sea-coast. Amoxkig q\!!cl<^t ^Cfi^'^^V^ 



constitated me registrar of deaths which occurred in his tribe. 
Every year he furnished me with the names of individuals who 
had died in the meanwhile, and sometimes would observe, with 
a sigh, " Bv-and-bye no more ; all die ; no more yoimg women 
'* grow up. ' Boonduin had an inclination to matrimony, but 
although he lived in hope he died a bachelor. All my efforts to 
procure a wife for him proved failures — over which iailui*es he 
would often laugh heartily, and excite much merriment among 
those whom his cheerful temper atti'actcd around him. The first 
time he came to the Home there was much sickness, and several 
of the inmates died. The death of one young woman, who 
evinced no sensibility of Christian truth, cast at that time con- 
siderable gloom over the sick inmates; but Boonduin had a 
companion in his illness who excited reasonable hope as to his 
faith in Jesus Christ. The numerous ministerial visits of that 
devoted and pious clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Needham, proved a 
great blessing to the young man, and he passed away in con- 
fident hope of eternal life. The good impression made on 
Boonduin s mind by that incident was a lasting one. Having 
recruited his health, he left the Home for a station, at which he 
continued some time, but returned again to the Home. He was 
then very ill, being unable to walk far or take much exercise ; 
yet he was cheerful, and fond of talking of the love of the 
Saviour towards dying sinners. On one occasion I found him, 
as I thought, in a deep sleep. On arousing him he said, in a 
pleasant tone, " What for Mrs. Smith call me back ?" I asked, 
*' Where have you been ?" He said, " Up in heaven ; good, 
** good to go to Jesus' good place." He said '' he liked to 
'* speak and think of God.'' Boonduin assisted the cause of our 
institution. His influence over both parents and children — the 
former of whom he convinced of the benefit which the latter 
would receive from early training in civilisation — assisted to 
overcome their prejudices against white people. He attended 
punctually to hear the children at their lessons, and would often 
join them at night in singing their Uttle hymns, and then kneel 
with them in prayer. Blacks from different tribes would some- 
times join. He was always ready to commend reUgion as the 
true way to heaven. Sometimes he would visit children near 
stations, on horseback, to induce them to enter the Institution. 
Once he persuaded a half-caste girl, Arnngm^ ^^\v«^\iftYd on 


German Flat, to leave, and enter the Home. He told me the 
following dialogue occurred : — " What you going to do with 
" that girl ?" said Boonduin. The young man, rather puzzled, 
replied, " Marry her, to be sure." " What do you teach her — 
" about God ?" The other did not reply, and Boonduin con- 
tinued, " You teach her the Bible?" and the other, in his sur- 
prise, answered " Yes." He soon saw the girl in the Home 
receiving religious instruction. Children, and other strange 
blacks, he was continually bringing to the Home. One Sabbath 
day I had a congregation of seventeen in the schoolroom, he 
acting as interpreter. He spoke to them of salvation, and of 
the punishment of the wicked after death. They behaved well, 
and listened attentively, the children seeming much pleased 
with the singing. From the time he first came to the Home, 
Boonduin abstained from all intoxicating drinks, and advocated 
abstinence by others fi'om that which had swept so many of his 
people from the face of the eai'th. The eternal welfare of the 
souls of many of his employers often occupied his thoughts, and 
he woidd sometimes, as if addressing them, say " that Jesus 
'* Christ, the Son of God, would take care of a poor blackfellow, 
** however vile he might appear in the eyes of his employer." 
On one occasion a native came to me to cure a sore arm, when 
Boonduin told him to knock off drinking and he would be a right 
man — that medicine would do him more good than grog. When 
nearly all our inmates were patients, suffering from whooping- 
cough, fever, or measles, he would often, in the early part of 
the night, relieve mc in watching the sick, and would express 
his anxiety lest I should be laid up ; and " what would poor 
"blackfellow do then?" As long as his health permitted, he 
passed much of his time in tailoring and patching clothes for the 
native children, and in this way he was serviceable to me. He 
s\iffcred much from a scald on the foot, which was inflicted 
during a fit he had in the night, and had to walk on crutches. 
Supported by his crutches, he stood, with other natives, to have 
his likeness photographed, observing that he would soon be 
gone. A few mornings after, having taken his breakfast, he 
rose from the fireside, lay down on his back, and, apparently 
without a struggle, died. He anticipated such a death, and 
often said, "I don't want to know whether at night, cock- 
crow, or morning, but God fiend \m^e\ Qi ^<e»!Oa.\sst. \si&^^^M&. 



" time. Jesus Christ call me to happy, happy land." His age 
was about thirty years. 


Nathan expired on the 14th of August, 1867. He was about 
thirteen years of age, and was one of the family of Panchey, 
who resided at Olcncoe, the station of the late Messrs. R. and 
E. Leake. His mother at her death requested that Nathan and 
three more of her family should be placed under my care in the 
Home, being afraid that after her death the tribe would take 
her son to the buSh. Patcbuerimen, or Jemmy Maclntyre, of 
whom I shall have occasion to write presently, was a kind 
friend to the mother and childi*en, who were much neglected by 
the father. He was greatly rejoiced when he found himself 
and his charge within the protection of the Home, receiving 
religious instruction and possessing the comforts of civilisation 
in exchange for the privations of the bush. The family arrived 
at the Home on the 19th of January. Nathan was of a weak 
constitution and asthmatic, and consequently incapable of doing 
any hard work. Naturally he was active and lively, and made 
rapid progress in reading, writing, singing, &c. ; and having a 
good memory retained the instruction he received, which was 
very gratifying to his teachers, and especially to myself. He 
was among the first childi^en who were visited by whooping- 
cough, and had the complaint very severely. He never regained 
his usual strength ; but inflammation of the limgs was the im- 
mediate cause of death. Measles he escaped, although occupying 
the same room with three children who had the disease. I 
never heard him express a desire to return to his tribe ; on the 
contrary he spoke gratefully of the comforts he enjoyed, and 
always at meal times offered thanks to the Giver of all good. 
He never neglected prayer, but led his companions also to seek 
Jesus. I little thought that the happy circle would be so soon 
broken up, and by the death of one so young — for Nathan was 
only thh'tecn years old. Blessed be God that gave and hath 
taken away — His name be praised. Every means for restoring 
him to health was used by Dr. Peel, the local Colonial Surgeon, 
but in vain. The day previous to his death, while my attention 
was diverted to the other sick cbildteii, 'NBAkan called out 



aloud, *' Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith, I am done, I am doLe ! I 
*' camiot breathe." I asked him if he meant that he was 
going to heaven to be with Jesus ? He replied, " Yes." I 
said, " God, my dear Nathan, is the best doctor ; when here on 
" earth medicine will not give relief — it is best to look to Jesus 
" for help." He said, " O God ! have mercy on my soul, and 
" make me well again." Dr. Peel was in attendance, but all 
remedies failed. In the evening he asked me to remove him to 
his sick father's camp close to tne house, so that I might obtain 
some rest. His request was complied with, and I placed him in 
his father's charge. For some time I sat with him. He spoke 
readily, and without reserve. In reply to my questions he said, 
Jesus is the Son of God ;" and when I asked, " Do you believe 
that you will go to heaven?" he said, in a clear voice, 
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died on the cross for me." On 
being asked what Jesus said, he answered with a smile, looking 
in my face, and then towards his father and another sick man 
who were listening attentively, " Little children come unto me ; 
" of such is the kingdom of heaven." I patted him on the 
cheek and encouraged him to look alone to Jesus, the Son of God, 
who was ready to receive him to His arms. I spoke to him of 
the everlasting happiness of heaven. He said " he had no fear 
" of dying — ^he would soon be with Jesus." When I was about 
to retire at eleven o'clock he shook hands with me and vnth. the 
native boys of the establishment, and bade us good night. He 
evidently felt full assurance and hope of the life to come. 
Early on the following morning he fell asleep, as I firmly 
believe, in the arms of Jesus. His father wept much for his 
loss, remarking, " My heart so love my son." I consoled him 
with the fact that his son was in heaven. The poor man told 
me that Nathan spoke of me several times during the night, and 
said, " When I die all I want to be here are Mrs. Smith and you 
" father ; tell her I am going to the good place." He then laid 
his head on his father's arm and died. Before his death he 
expressed a wish to see his schoolmates and his sister, to bid them 
farewell. He told his father not to be sorry for him, that he 
could not keep him in this world. "You cannot help me, 
" father," he said ; " I am going father, going ;" and those 
were his last words, except to ask for water. His father sobbed 
aloud, and said to me, "You are gcMidTMi\3D«t^\a^iJ^^^'^ 


'* and dress hiin." Nathan was buried in the cemetery, and the 
burial service was read by the Ven. Archdeacon Twopeny. 


Patchuerimen, or Jemmy Maclntyre, who died on September 
9th, 1867, was about thirty years of age. We always found him 
faithful, honest, and industrious, and he evidently had the in- 
terest of the family at heart. He gave up drink, and made 
evident to his tribe and the white people that he was a better 
man without the intoxicating cup that brings so many of the 
young men of his tribe to premature graves. Patchuerimen 
was a favorite with all who knew him. He left in search of a 
wife, and took charge of Panchey's family at Glencoe station, 
where he resided for two years. On the death of Panchey's 
wife, and at her dying request, he placed the children in the 
Home under my care — ^for Panchey cared little for the welfare 
of his children, and squandered his money chiefly in drink. 
This was why Patchuerimen desired that the children should be 
placed with me, and saved from the effects of their father's 
evil example. Patchuerimen having made the Home his abode, 
promised never to leave it. He afforded me great assistance in 
securing the well-being of the other inmates, and especially of 
the children of Panchey. Poor Panchey afterwards came to tho 
Home, and I was afraid that his boy and girl would bo enticed 
away by him. His constitution was completely broken — he was 
desirous to secure a home, and was received as a sick inmate of 
the Institution. Patchuerimen suffered much fi*om the colcaiess 
of the winter, and he also became a patient. He often spoke 
of approaching death, and said that we should see by-and-bye 
that he was right, and his friends ^* would miss poor James when 
" he did not go for their firewood — poor fellow, he gone dead." 
During his illness he liked to speak of his faith in Jesus Christ, 
who, he said, was the true and only way of salvation. He told 
the children he would meet them in heaven, and admonished them 
to be obedient and good to me. Two gentlemen called on him, 
one of whom was the Rev. Mr. Meischel. Mr. Meischel prayed 
with the dying man, and Patchuerimen responded to every 
sentence uttered by the minister in his behalf, and told him that 
heaven was his resting place. To another visitor he said, " No 



change in me ; all the same love Jesus Christ." Previous to 
his death I asked if he knew me. He answered, " I know you 
" since me little boy." Two of my sons entered the room, when 
he fixed his eyes on them, and then turning to me with a smile, 
nodded his head, and said. *' My good young masters," with 
much fervor. He ajfforded many proofs of his earnest hope of 
salvation through Jesus Christ. Poor Panchey paid very little 
attention to Patehuerimen during his illness. He expressed kind 
wishes towards my son, who had mastered the dialect of the 
tribe, and thereby enabled himself and others of our family to 
speak freely to him in his own tongue of the things of God. 
He received every attention from the Assistant Colonial Surgeon, 
and from myself as far as lay in my power. The illness of 
Patchuerimen, or Jenmiy Maclntyre, was long and painful, 
accompanied by fever and terminating in inflammation. He 
was the last but one of Old Man Duncan's family, who was 
chief of the Mount Schanck ti*ibe, which is now extmct. 


Emma, only sister of Nathan, died on the 16th of September, 
1867. She had been afflicted for years and bore her suffering 
with calmness and patience. She felt much on account of her 
brother. On the morning of his death she stepped into the 
room where the corpse was lying in its shroud, and with tears 
in her eyes pressed her lips to his cold checks. " My brother 
" gone to heaven," she said, and sobbed aloud. She saw her 
brother's funeral leave the house, but was too ill to join in the 
procession. On my return from the funeral I foimd the sick 
natives in great trouble. On enquiring the cause I found that 
the old women of the tribe had been there endeavouring to in- 
duce them to leave the place before my return. Emma and the 
others told them they preferred staying to going into the bush 
homeless and friendless to starve. In tne Institution they had a 
a home, and in God a friend. A few soothing words restored 
their calmness. Every week made the fact more apparent that 
Emma was drawing near to her last home. She did not require 
to be reminded that her end was approaching; she felt con- 
vinced that her body would soon be laid in the grave, and her 
soul become a glorified spirit. With the simplicity of a child 


she listened to the glad tidings of joy. Often when I was sit- 
ting by her death-bed she would talk and question me about 
heaven. She said she was sure she would not live — that no 
medicine would cure her. She was kindly attended to by the 
doctor, but fever, whooping-cough, and inflammation, rendered 
it certain that Emma would no more stand in her class, nor 
mingle her voice with the singing. Her teacher was not left 
without the cheering hope that her instruction was being blessed 
by the Holy Spirit to her eternal welfare. I observed her in 
the evening on her feeble knees, together with a little black girl, 
repeating the Lord's Prayer and " Gentle Jesus, meek and 
'' mild.'' She requested me to be with her in her last moments. 
I found her faith firm, saying, " One Jesus, one Jesus — heaven," 
She breathed her last, a brand plucked from the burning, little 
more than a month after the death of her brother Nathan. Her 
age was about fourteen years. 


Yara-nar-a-men, or Short Billy, died on the 7th of December, 
1867. He belonged to the Pinchunga tribe, who call Penola 
their country. In December, 1866, Mr. Hunter, of Tarpeena, 
sent Billy to the Home to receive the attention of Dr. Peel, both 
his legs being paralysed. His general health was good. He 
was sent to the Hospital in Adelaide, but returned uncured. 
Sometimes he gave way to grief and despair on account of his 
helplessness. Ilis own countrymen forsook him because they 
found attendiiig on him troublesome : they would do nothing 
to assist him in his pitiable condition. He lay upwards of four 
months only able to move from place to place by slow and pain- 
ful efforts. Dr. Peel's kindness was a great solace, and he in- 
dulged the hope of being an inmate of the Mount Gambler 
Hospital. He sent several messages to the blacks that he was 
dying; but none came to watch his eyes closing in death. He 
would sometimes fancy them gathered round him, and would 
say, " Jesus Christ love your souls." Shortly before his death 
I asked him what made him so contented and calm ? He re- 
plied, ** Christ all day, Christ all night, make me right." At 
nis own request he was baptised by the liev. Archdeacon Two- 
peny, professing belief in the Lord J csus Chrbt. I asked him if 


he had any message to the kind friends he so often alluded to in 
the Adelaide Hospital. He said, " Tell those good friends poor 
" Billy is gone to heaven." With evident gratitude he spoke 
of the kind words and comfort he received from visitors and 
those who attended him. Four days previous to his departure 
he shook hands with me, his eyes apparently closing in death, 
and seemed to wish to speak but was unable. He said once to 
one of my sons, " Going to God in heaven ;" and at another time, 
to another of my family, he said, " He would see Christ soon." 
Once he called to me in a strong voice, " Mother, mother, going 
" to Jesus Christ." I asked him if he was afraid ? He replied, 
*' Happy ! " At last he called me to raise his head and said he 
felt cold. I admonished him to look to Jesus Christ, and told 
him he would soon be free from pain in heaven. His spirit 
passed away on the date before mentioned. 

Part Third. 



ICanguage ot the ^ribie. 


Structure of the Tongue. 

jHEY call their language Drttalat-ngolonung (speech of 
man), or Booandtk-ngolo (speech of the Booandiks). 
Although not nearly so extensive as some of the 
languages of the more advanced races of mankind, 
it is elaborate in struct\ire, and has. several cases and 
inflexions more than English ; and the noims have three 
numbers — ^the singular (one), dual (two), and plural (any 
number above two). It possesses all the parts of speech 
we have in English, except the article. The dual number in 
noims id restricted to those designating persons. The follow- 
ing are examples : — 

barito (singular), a girl moorongal (sitigular), a hoy 

barite-Dol (dual), two girls moorong-al-wol (dual), two boys 

barite-barite (plural), girls moorongal-ngara (plural), boys. 

Nyara is the most generally used plural affix. For the sake of 
euphony, it gives place to hro and mine-ger in some instances ; 
thus, mala-hro (many wives), and yotcermineger-ine (my many 

Ine^ affixed to a noun, means the addition of mine, as marm-ine 
(my father). 

Nouns are declined as follows : — 

drnal, a many or men druala, is a man 

drual-at, belonging to a man^ or men dmal-er, by a man 

drualo, go to or with a man^ or men drual-on, from a man. 

The above, as will be observed, has no dual or plural form. 


Nouns of three numbers are thus declined : — 


ngat, a mother ngata, it a mother 

ngat-at, belonging to a mother ngat-la, by a mother 

ngat-o, to or with a mother ngat-anung, /roin a inother 


ngat-bol, two mothers ngat-bola, are two mothers 

ngat-bol-at, belonging to two tnothers ngat-bolor, bg two mothers 
ngat-bolOy to or with two mothers ngut-bolon, from two mothers 


ngat-ngara, mothers ngat-ngara-a, are tnothers 

ngat-ngara-at, belonging to mothers ngat-ngara-la, bg mothers 
ngat-ngara-o, to or with mothers ngat-ngara-on, from mothers . 

To express "iny mother" in the foregoing declension, 
requires tne affix of tne to each. The affix on'signifies " your *' 
mother ; and un^ " his," " her," " its," or " the " mother. The 
same rule goycrns other nouns having the thi*cc numbers. 


Fint Person Singular. 

ngatho, / ngatho-at, iigan-a, or ngan-a-nino, 


Second Person Singular, 
ngoor-o, thou ngooro-at, or n-gan-a-on, thine. 

Third Person Singular. 
niing, hCf she, or t^ noo-nger-e-ngat, his, hers, or its. 

First Person Dual, 
ngatho-aly we two ngan-a-alo, ours ttco. 

Second Person Dual. 
ngoot-pool, you two ngana-ong, your two. 

Third Per 801% Dual. 
nung-kol, they two nuokolat, theirs two. 

First Person Plural, 
DgathO'e, we ngtxn-a-axiu, otirt. 



Second Person Plural. 
ngoot-paler, you ngoot-paler-orong, yours. 

Third Person Plural. 
nung-paler, them nung-paler-at, theirs. 

When a pronoun is used with a verb, the distinctive form of 
the pronoun is dropped, and an affix is appended to the verb— 
e.g., yanang-a (I am going) ; yanang-in (thou art going). 

The verbs have four tenses, viz., a remote past, as tip-e (we 
ate long ago) ; the past, tin-e (we ate recently) ; present, dirn-e 
(we are eating) ; and future,- dirwin-ge (we will eat). Their 
verbs have no infinitive mood; they must express present 
or past action. 

In counting, they reckon by twos, and when they reach ten 
they express furtner numbers by kar-li-e (many). Thus, 
hoolite ha hoolite ha wando (two and two and one), equal five. 
While reckoning they touch the tips of two fingers. They 
seem unable to comprehend any number beyond ten, and 
simply say, kar-U-e (many). Wando is " one ; " (oolite^ " two ; " 
hoolite-ha-wando (two and one), "three;" hooltte-ha-hooltts 
(two and two), or wrow-wong (few) " four ; " and karleur-ner 
" many times." 



The following is a vocabulary of the more important words 
of the Booandik dialect : — 


Be — Pipeclay (pronounced short). 

Barit-o — A girl. 

Baroo-murt — A young woman. 

Boop-ik — ^A hill. 

Boot-ong — ^A liver. 

Bar-ing-ine — My knee. 
Birm-birm — Meadow quail. 
Boop — Head. 

Baa-aa — ^Abone (pronounced short). 
Bool-e — StQm&ch.« 




Ba-ba-ter — ^A young man. 

Boongil — ^The planets observable. 

Boo-tho — Grass. 

Bo-^An eatable root. 

Bat— HaiL 

Bool-oin — Smoke. 

Boon-er-do-dir — ^A mallee-wood 

Brooal — ^A shield to keep off spears. 

Boo-amba — ^A heavy sharp-pointed 
angular club. 

Boom-boom-ert — ^A light shield- 
like arrangement of bushes for 
hunting game. 

Boog-ang — ^Yegetable food. 

Bir-wir— The red-biU. 

Boo-in kool — ^A rood necklace. 

Bol-at — A leaf. 

Burtber — Smoke, a pipe. 

Bal-et-ung — Pear, discretion. 

Bo-bng — Life, or soul. [Some held 
they had two bo-ongs. At 
death one went down west into 
the sea, and would return as a 
t white man ; the other went into 
the cloud-land, which was a 
sort of paradise.] 

Druam — Flesh (masculine). 

Dirling — The elbow. 

Drual — An aboriginal, mankind. 

Jongine — ^A robe. 

Koor-aa — ^A male " forester " kan- 

Kee — A wild cat. 

Eoor-amo — An opossum of the 
largest kind. 

Kal, karl — A tame dog. 

Ear-na-chum — A wild native dog. 

Kower^ or kowber — ^An emu. 

Koo-art-ung — ^A laughing jackass. 
Kar-a-al — ^A white cockatoo. 
Eil-en — A black magpie. 
Koo-no-wor — ^A swan. 
Koo-ler — ^An ogf;, 
Kal-ingal, koo-a-da — Parrots. 
Koil — A waterhen coot. 
Kro-an-dum — A cormorant. 
Kunt-ar-bool— A whale. 
Koo-ren — A pigeon 
Kok-ber — ^The mullet. 
Konkro— The freshwater crayfish. 
Eeler — ^The salt water crayfish. 
Kol-ong-kel — An octopus. 
Koo-ro— Shellfish. 
Keo-cho— A small ant. 
Kine-kino-nool — ^A black woman. 
Kow — The nose. 
Kin-e — Forehead, a headland. 
Koom — ^The nock. 
Kro-mil-it — Red. 
Kro— Blood. 

Koat-am-ngurla — Grey hair. 
Krip— The thigh. 
Eoo-ngap-um-ino — Children. 
Eoon-atgo — A male baby. 
Koon-am — A female baby. 
Koat-par-e — An old man. 
Eow-ine — Eain. 
Eoo-na-maa — Winter. 
Karo — The sun. 
Ean-ngara — The east. 
Earra — ^The fem-loaved wattle. 
Koo-ra — The toatree. 
Kirp — The boxwood. 
Keeng-a — Pigface (a plant). 
Kapen-kar-o — Sunset. 
Kur-ooder — A winter house. 
Kra — A well of water. 



COMMON JVOWra-Ccontinued). 

Koorich — ^A valley. 

Koot-ap-— Stone 

Kar-ko-be — ^A stone axe. 

Kel-la-or — Lancewood. 

Kax-a-ke — Marks, ornamental 

Eoo-en — ^A heavy barbed spear. 

Kan-a — ^A straight heavy dub. 

Koom-bine — ^A lever for throwing 
a spear. 

Eaar — ^A sharp-edged club. 

Ean-a — A club, the lubra*s yam 

Eetum-ketum — A boomerang. 

Kal-a-pa — ^To-morrow. 

Karo — Day, the sun. 

Ker-e-or — ^A native bag. 

Ker-e-orgo— A little bag. 

Kar-at-kripo — ^Trowsers. 

Ko-lan-droam — A spirit, a ghost. 

Kar-le-moon — A liar. 

Koor — ^A cold, a cough. 

Elar-im — A lizard. 

Kro-mel-ite — Red. 

Ker-e-ko-bite — Red. 

Keam — A bad woman, a widow. 

Koom — ^The neck. 

Eee-cho— A stinking ant. 

Eolkol-ine — My bashfulness. 

Kallala — ^A general kangaroo hunt. 

Laa — ^The bastard turkey. 

Lo — ^The mouth (pronounced short) . 

Lo— A swamp. 

Mar-e— A female *' forester" kan- 

Mar — The white cockatoo with 
yellow crest. 

Minam-minam — ^A shag. 

Moo-ner — ^A penguin. 

Mir-ah — ^The cockatoo parrot with 

fish-colored feathers. 
Moo-a — ^A seal. 
Moo-raa — ^A wombat. 
Marma — ^The sting-ray, 
Moon-o-erp— A mosquito. 
Mur-na — ^A hand, fingers. 
Mir — ^The eye. 
Murt— The chest. 
Mar-a-woo— The right arm. 
Moom — ^The skin, clouds. 
Mro — A sinew. 
Mar-moon — ^White. 
Mraad — Earth, country. 
Mur-lite-mraad — Autumn, ripe 

Min-an-mum — Lightning. 
Man kin mraad — ^Darkisthe world, 

M'raa — ^The stringy-bark tree. 
Mooth-a — ^The blackwood tree. 
Munter — A kind of native apple 

grown on the seacoast. 
Mir-nat — ^A bulrush. 
Mar-o-ngire | ^^^^ ^^^^ 
Moor-na ) 
Moal— Night. 
Me-a-kee — The kangaroo apple 

Maa-aa — ^The fern root. 
Mur-long — Sand. 
Mur-e — Stone. 

Malkar — A heavy narrow shield^ 
Mroon — A large ant. 
Mountbullo — Fat. 
Mal-a — ^A swamp weed. 
Mooger — ^A rug. 

Mooger-boop— A head cloth, a hat. 
Mar-e-do— A kasii^guL^y^ ^ss^. 

1 30 


COMMON NOUNS-^tooXbaxie^), 

Mam-dal — Thunder. 
Murlong — ^The sandy beach. 
Mrada-al — ^A feUow-coiintryman. 
Mar-a woba tara-wo— The right 

arm and left arm. 
Maa-yera — Fern straws; also the 

name of Mr. Qlen's station. 
Mangor — A ball. 
Moo chert druai — ^A strange black 

Mroin — ^A large ant. 
Mur-a-pena — A corroboree, or 

native meeting and dance. 
M'raa-aline — My countryman. 
M'raadon — Your country. 
Nir-i-cha — The wind. 
Ngal-e — Frost. 
Ngal-o-kar-o— Midday. 
Ngir-aa-da — ^The white-gum tree. 
Nal-a-wort — The broad-leaved 

Ngurp — ^Native apples that grow 

on the coast. 
Ngoor-le — The white currant bush. 
Ngoor-la — ^A house. 
Nur-om — A halting place. 
Ngur-ter — A lake. 
Ngee-re — ^An eaglehawk. 
Noor-la — A nest, a house, a camp. 
Ngar-at — Seaweed. 
Ng^ — Sheoak, caauarina. 
Ngoon-ap — ^A lizard. 
Ngom-da — To follow footprints. 
Ngoor-la kar-o-dor — A hut, a 

Ngar-a-pine— A slate-colored crane 
Kgum-at — The salt water cray- 
NooB'kdlar—A Bhark. 

Ngum-at — ^The sea. 
Ngatmur-na — ^The thumb. 
Ngat-teen-a — The great toe 

(literally, mother toe). 
Ngur-la— -Hair. 
Ngur-la nger-ne — Beard. 
Ngich — ^The shoulder. 
Ngat-mal — ^A f omalo. 
Ngiring gee — An old man. 
Ngaa-long — ^An echo. 
Ngurla-wro — ^A moustache. 
Ngrang — ^A hole in the rocks. 
Ngumer-oing — A girl's string, 

fringe, or apron. 
Nat-min-ing — ^A thiof. 
Nan-gor-ong — Poison, anything 

unfit for food. 
Nurip-nurip — Ordinary songs. 
Ngan-grine — Sweat. 
Noomo — A louse. 
Nur-e— A name. 

Pringer — ^A kangaroo-catching dog. 
Pur-nor — ^A black duck. 
Par-ang-al — ^A pelican. 
Pat-om — A magpie, a goose. 
Poa-na-wir-ter — ^The high ground 

Pin-ang-ol — Large gulls. 
Pool-an — ^The bittern. 
Pan-a — ^The back. 
Prum — Leg, the root of a tree. 
Por-peg-ngara — An old woman. 
Par-e — Water. 
Par-mon-karo — Sunrise. 
Purter — A white ant OQg. 
Pa-woor — A river. 
Pon-am-bol — A stringybark forest. 
Prahm — A snaring rod. 
Pe-rang — ^Time-beating sticks. 



COMMON NOUNS-iexmMaxi^). 

Pempi — Bread. 

Pap-am-boop — ^Milk. 

Prung-kart — ^The root of a tree. 

Poat — ^The fresh water tortoise. 

Pan-u-ba-a — The backbone. 

Pan-ke — ^A gpin. 

Pone wnrter, brim-brim — Quails. 

Pan-or— A grave. 

Ping-koom — Water, a skin-bag. 

Pem — Notches in a tree. 

Pang-al — A native doctor or medi- 
cine man. 

Patawa — A plait or string. 

Ter-e-mtirt — A precipice. 

Trum — A rainbow. 

Toongoom — The moon, a month. 

Tar-00-ki — ^A seagull. 

Tor-o-to — A blowfly, a maggot. 

Toom-bal — A March fly. 

Teen-a — Foot-tracks, spoor. 

Tung-a— The teeth. 

Tal-e — ^The tongue. 

Tar-o-woo — ^The left arm. 

Tin-bal-ang — The musk duck. 

Tuman-tuman — Birds. 

Treen — ^The black cockatoo, with 
red feathers in wings. 

Toal — The magpie. 

Toon-ngoon — The moon. 

Tum-an-ba-ngal-um — ^The stars, 

Tart-pen-a — ^The red gum. 

Tar-ang — A cherry. 

Tenap — A frog. 

Tat-a-a — A snipe. 

Taar-pur-ne — ^A girl's feather 
fringe or apron. 

Turlo — ^Early rain, beginning of 
the wet season. 

Tat-kana — A robin-red-breast. 
Wil-er — ^The black cockatoo, with 

yellow feather in wings. 
Wan-di — ^The native companion 

Wa — The crow. 
Woi-ong — ^The whistling jay. 
Wa-poat — ^Mutton-fish,* shell-fish. 
"Woor-lo — Dark colored, black. 
Wor-loong — Green. 
Wiling-mur-e — Blue, sky-blue. 
Wur-aa — The cheek. 
Wrung — ^The ear. 
Wro — A lip. 
Woo— An arm. 
Wa-wor-gal — A young man. 
We-at-a-ere — An old woman. 
Woat — ^Early summer. 
Wur-nap— Firewood. 
Win-ger — ^North. 
Wep-er — South. 
Wung-ar-o — ^West. 
We-o — Down west. 
Wor-loong-bootho — Green g^rass. 
Wroit — The honeysuckle. 
War-e — ^A road, a path. 
Wra-gar-ite — The blacks who lived 

on the plain to the north of 

the Booandik territory. 
We-re-o-dir — A teatree spear. 
Wirlap — Ochre. 
Woo — The wrist. 
Wan-do — One. 
Wirtcr — A feather. 
Wer-ing — A stick used to throw a 

birds and other small animals 
Wol — ^A shadow, a reflection. 
Wothong wothong kol — A »hir 





Wra — Plains. 

Woo-ong — ^Arms, wings. 

We-arto-ere — ^An old woman. 

Woor doo-in — ^Yestorday. 

Woo-ine — My arm. 

"Woor, or Walim — ^Evil beings that 
are supposed to prowl about in 
the dark. They avoid light ; 
and the natives, therefore, 
make fires to scare them. 

Woor — A human corpse. 

Wunine-wunine — A motherless 

Werat — A rope. 
Ulul — The small housefly. 
Ulon — ^A cave. 
Ye-ir — ^A rib. 
Yar-o — A stream. 
Yinmoom — ^A coward. 
Yo-long — ^A cave. 
Yer-a — A leaf. 
Yoong-in-karo— The rising sun. 

Waawor — ^The Blue Lake, Mount 

Yatton-loo— The Leg of Mutton 

Kettla Malpe— The Valley Lake. 
Palon — ^The south side of Uie Kettla 

Krower-at-war-e — ^The lake next 

to Moorak, Mount Gambier. 

(literally, Emus' road) 
Karremarter— The banks of the 

Kaingum — The steep descent to the 

Kroit Bui — Eroitbul's residence at 

Punchbowl, Mount Gambier. 
Kootel — The Narrow Neck. 
Maayera — Mr. Glen's station 

(literally, fern straw). 
Mim — Moimt Graham (literally, a 

small cockatoo). 
Beleter — Mount Muirhead 

(literally, timid). 
' Moi-wal — Mount Lookout, Bald 

Jiill (literally, an ant-heap). 


Ereng Balam — ^The peak of Mount 
Gambier (literally, tho eagle- 

Nan-an-an-an — The swamp near 
Rivoli Bay South. 

Darro — The place where the 
Elizabeth was stranded. 

Balambool — Mr. Umpherston's 
cave (literally, the buttercup, 
a flower). 

BuUey Murre — The Up and Down 

BeHt— The Bluff (literally, an in- 
nocuous snake). 

Pawer — The Glenelg River (lite- 
rally, the river). 

Ngaranga — Port MacDonnell. 

Lie — The site of Allandale. 

Kalayin — Wattle Range (Mrs. 
Cameron's station). 

Thu-ghee — The cave in the town 
of Mount Gambier. 

Wirmal-ngrang— Rivoli Bay North, 
where Beachport stands (lite- 
rally, the owl's cave). 



NAMES OF PX^afi'^-(continuad). 

Wilichum — EivoK Bay South. 

Woakwine — ^A station near Bivoli 
Bay (literally, my arm). 

Lo-on — ^llie Millicent Kanges. 

Prunkart — ^The swamp next Grey- 
town, Bivoli Bay South (lite- 
rally, the root of a tree). 

GUap — Glencoe (literally, deep). 

Elirp — Lake Leake (literally, box- 

Wringen wumap Kroand-umer — 
Lake Frome (literally, by the 
cormorant the wood was re- 


Bool-e ngine-go gat-on — Stomach 

Boort-ane-a — Hardened, burnt. 
Boolite — ^Two. 
Boolito ba boolito —Four. 
Bar-a-teno — Do it again. 
Boolite ba wando — ^Three. 
Boo-lite ur-ner — ^Two times. 
Boort-a mon — ^Recognise, know. 
Broota — Untie, undo. 
Boon-dir — Speared. 
Ben wer-ing — Hit with a waddy. 
Birwat— Old. 
Ba-wad-wa — ^And what P (Said by 

the hearer of a story to the 

Baa-ra-an — Do not. 
Bumt-an papam boop — Milked 

Ba — And. 
Be-ne-a — Hard. 
Boop-o-o — On the hill. 
Boop-o-ngong— On your head. 
Boora — A long way. 
Boong-ing — Dive, batho. 
Ouma doo — ^Wash cloth. * 

Droin — Narrow. 
Drit-ban — Hungry. 
Dir-a — ^Eat (a command). 

Ding wen — ^A long time ago. 

Ding-owan-an karo-o — By -and- 

bye, on another day. 
Dretat — ^New. 
Grinta — Shear, shave. 
Glut-coorn — Savage, unfriendly. 
Ing-ga— Sit down (imperative). 
Kuk-i — Come hither. 
Kard-a — Stand up, rise. 
Kurt — Inland. 
Koomon - ine pare - er — Thirsty, 

needing water. 
Keto — ^To-day, now, immediately. 
Keto-noo-in-a — By-and-bye. 
Kal-im bool — Before. 
Kol kol-ine-ban — I am bashful. 
Kar-li-e ngoin pool — Many, plenty, 


Kap-on — ^Descending. 

Kj:ip-a — ^Warding off a blow. 

Kolo pom — Blind. 

Kum-da — Call out. 

Krit-an-in-ine — ^You are scratching 

ICrit-apan-u-ngino — Scratch my 


Kar-lin-a — It is a lie. 

Karle-au-itin — ^Tell no lies. 

Klut — Bitter, nauseous. 



OTHER PARTS OF i8fPJEl?Ci7- (continued). 

Kram-boo-in— -yomiting. 
Kar liuT-ner — Many times. 
Kan-muma— Above. 
Kan-mum-a moom-o-noong — Up 

in the clouds. 
Kir-won ngoorla — To go visiting. 
Kap-an-a-karo — ^The sun has sot. 
Kooma muma — ^Wash hands. 
Eooma kin-e ngon— Wash your 

Eol-o-tomin — Sulky. 
Koo-le — Savage, angry. 
Eal-a wow-we-al — Let us con- 

Kooma — ^Wash. 
Kro-a-mon-a kin kin-ule — ^I love a 

Koor-do-ma do-on — Put on your 

Koop-on pramer — Catching with 

snaring rod. 
Kolo pom — Blind. 
Kor-o-dan — Mar, obliterate. 
Koon goon — Heavy. 
Kor-e-a — Be quite silent. 
Kep-a — ^Tell, inform. 
Kra-wanau — ^You two go shai'es. 
Kra-we-al — ^We two will share to- 
Kin-e-pa — Garry on the back. 
Kin-e be-a-ton — I will carry you. 
Krang-a — Nurse a child. 
Koon-a-a — Garry a child on back. 
Kan-a-a — Fasten, tie. 
Lum-a — Lie down, sleep. 
Loong-a — Shed tears. 
La-wan— -Scolding, quarrelling. 
Lan-ka— Speak. 

Malambel — Married. 
Murtong-a— Good, well, right. 
Moom-dart— Bark from moom 

Mur tong — Good. 
Mang-yenata — Long time agp. 
Ming-ro— Near. 
Moo-ro-ke— Little. 
Moot-er — Short. 
Maa noo-gin — Beyond. 
Marmon— White. 
Momon pem-pi — Knead bread. 
Men don-a — Flew away. 
Mana — Get, take, bring. 
Man-a-maa-ngine — Bring for me. 
Man-an mur-na — ^Taking hands. 
Manan-woo — Taking a woman by 

the wrist to make her one's 

Mo-ning-or-a — ^To pour out, to 

Me-nan on — ^They are looking at 

Meenganin-ine— Don't look at me. 
Moor-o-ke-a-braan — When I was 


Mrooi- wan —Growling, quarrelling 
Ma-pon ngar — On horseback. 
Moo-chun-a — Not to know, not to 

Mro-an pan-or-o — Buried in the 

Mam-a — ^Wrestle. 
Mur-nat — Naked. 
Murten — ^Wear, use. 
Man-an-a nga — Nearly caught it. 
Mum ga-maa-ngine — ^Wait for me. 
"MeVaV—TVikL, XLot thick. 




Mo ming-ra — Pour out water. 

Hoort — Blunt. 

Mar-oo-a— Hold fast. 

Moochert — Strange. 

Moor chon a ngal-o-ngon — I do not 

understand your language. 
Kramboo— Vomiting. 
Kriton — Scratching. 
Nur-ip-a — Sing. 
Ngir-it-an — Sliook, or caused to 

Ngaa won-a-ort — ^What like. 
Ngan-00-ngat — ^Whose. 
Ngcn-don — Thinking. 
Nan— What. 
Ngan noo-at — ^Whose. 
Ngan-00 wean ban — ^Who is fight- 
Noo-in-noo-a — Enough, no more. 
Ngot pul — You two. 
Nung-kol — ^These two. 
Ngi-ing — No. 
Nor-o-da— Smell it. 
Ngang-on— Pant, breathe fast. 
Nap-er — How many. 
Ngan-nure-ngon ? — What is your 

Nan-u wiiig ar-a-ngon P — ^Who are 

your relations P 
Ngat-u-ngon — It will bite you. 
Nan in koo-le ban P — ^What are you 

angry about ? 
Net -ing- wrung -ung— Deaf ears 

Ng^n-a onbooe — Let it bo yours. 
Ngabul kceto — ^Directly. 
Naw-et — ^Whon. 
Na — ^Where. 
Noo— Here. 

Na-in-yan P — Where are you 

Na-wer-in-wata P — ^When will you 
return, or come P 

Nukine-waa P— What for, why P 

Ngen-don — Thinking. 

Nga bula ngen de — ^Wait till I 
think, or roc€dl. 

Nraa an-a par-e — Water dried up. 

Nur-i-pan-ine— Sang about me. 
(Considered a very groat insult). 

Nat-chim-a — Awake. 

Ngan — Yes. 

Ngatho — Me. 

Ngoor-o — ^You. 

Naan — Saw. 

Naa — See. 

Na-wea — Let me see. 

Na-we — Let (him) see. 

Ngoo-an-ngoo-an ngooinpul — ^Nu- 

Noo-an — Dead. 

Ngine-ung-a-ye-noon we ne-ngon 
— I am not afraid of you 
(literally, not am I afraid of 

Noo noo gin — ^This side. 

Ngatho — I. 

Oo-an-00-an — Many, plenty, nume- 

Oka — Giving. 

Pat-ong — Soft. 

Papa ngurla — Bum hair, mourn 
for the dead, as the women do 
by singing all the hair off the 

Par-e-ngine-grong—An expression 
of pity — ^its meaning tan 
scarcely be expressed. 




Pong-pung-pano — Boggy. 

Pe-nakup — Possessioiis, belong- 

Poor tong-or-o burr — ^A long way. 

Par oong kar-li-e — Abundant. 

Pra-wol-o — Between. 

Proon nga — Play, make fun of in a 
dance, amuse. 

Proon-an-ban druol— Natives cor- 
roboreeing or dancing. 

Pi-cha-koom — ^Tart, acid. 

Papa— Set fire, to light and cook. 

Fal-a-woin-a — Hot, burning. 

Pon doom a — ^Tie, make fast. 

Per lambooring — ^Hunting game. 

Papam-boop — Milk 

Tan-art — Elder bom, or elder. 

Toa won-a — Unwell. 

Tat-a— Drink. 

Toon kin-a ngin — Tou are tired. 

Tata par-e — Drink water. 

To-to-a— To cut. 

Toom-boan tuman — ^To bake flesh 
or roast. 

Tum-a — ^Dig. 

Tine-bom — Mocking. 

Tin-gom ging — Sneezing. 

Taa— There. 

Taa-ing-a — There sit (a request). 

Tap a wor-wor — Open the door. 


Toonking — Tired. 

Tor-ta — Count. 

Toor koo pa pena—- To chop a stick 
or tree. 

Too worn — ^True. 

Toog-om — ^To spit. 

Troom bon ta-le — Putting out the 
tongue oSexmvely. 

Tap — Light, not weighty. 

Ur-le-a — ^Alive. 

Win o ngine — With us. 

Wom ban — ^Accompanied. 

Wi-a — ^Ask, beg. 

Wo-taim-ban — Exchanging. 

Wrang-koon-an — Done wrong, 

badly done. 
Werin-er — Crooked. 
Wol — Signal, make a united effort. 
We-arto —Tough. 
Waa in koon P — ^What did you say P 
Wil kering bad-a-ine — My bones 

ache ; or, I am exhausted. 
Win jon— Overlie. 
We-an-ma — ^Twist. 
Wil-ich-a — Asleep. 
Wirl pan a — Broken^ 
Woor-a— Dead. 

Wilich-a-wa — Sleep (a command). 
Woo-rong — Big. 
Woo-rong-bool-e — Long. 
Wunine-wunine — Fatherless. 
Wrang — Bad. 
Win-an-a-nane — I did not see it; 

I don't know of it. 
Win-an-a wung-an — I did not hear. 
We ne-ang-aton noo-e ung-in — 

I will hit you that you will 

die (literally, Beat wUl I you 

die will you). 
Wirlip — Sore. 
We-a-an— Laughed. 
Wan-do — One. 
Wean-ban —Fighting. 
Wan-do ur-ner— Twice. 
We-a-an-nin-ine — Don't laugh at 

W\d-ttii-dou— Relish. 



OTHER PARTS OF i9PiiJ?CSr— (continued). 

Wil koop-a wumap — To spKt fire- 

Wuing or un-a — Forgotten. 

Wa-to-a— To reconnoitre, to spy. 

Wo-a— Give. 

Woang ine, or Wo-at ngine — 
Give me. 

Wrow-wong — Few, four. 

Wrang nger-e— Bad, wrong. 

Wraan — Bun. 

Weep-malla — Wifeless. 

Yan ka wa — Go away. 

Yap — Light a fire. 

Yanka— Walk. 

Yan — Goes. 

Ya mum-a — ^That side. 

Yerp-a— To lift. 

Yerp-an — Gave birth to, brought 

Ye-on — Painful. 
Yin-noon — ^Afraid. 
Yoonda — Push. 
Yoar-le-a — It is alive. 
Yer-am ban-a — To hunt with 

Ye-rong-a — Make it. 
Yaranda — Sweep. 
Yooch-ba — Chase, run after. 
Yoo-a koor-e-a — Make haste. 
Ya-lo-an — ^Dreamt of. 
Ya-lo-ing — ^Dreaming. 
Yumpa— Speak aloud. 
Ycla-pine — It is my fault. 



The following words express the relationships recognised by 
the tribe : — 

Harm — Father. 

Marmine — "My father. 

Ngat — ^Mother. 

Ngatine, or ngat-arine-at — My 

Mala— Wife. 
Nganap — Husband. 
Kooer — Daughter. 
Koonge— Son. 
Marmine- wau — Other father, or 

Nere — ^A younger brother. 

Nere-er — Younger sister. 

Do-a-te — ^A younger brother. 

Kro — Grandmother. 

Koor-ap — Grandfather. 

Ngimi-e — ^Uncle. 

Krinong — ^A mother-in-law. 

Panang — A brother-in-law, a wife's 

Wargul-e — An elder brother. 
Dat-e — ^An elder sister. 
Wuna-ngar-e-^A nephew. 
Nguper — A niece. 




Cupn-nin — The socond daughter- 

Datino — My elder sister. 

Dotino — My younger brother. 

Baton — ^Your elder sister. 

Mala-ngine — My wife. 

Mala-boline— My two wives (dual). 

Mala-ngar-angine — My wives 

Mala-ngal-on — Your wives (dual). 

Ne-re-ung — His younger sister. 

Ngaton — Your mother. 

Wargalon — Your elder brother. 

Koonerine malanung — The wife of 
my son, or my son's son's 
wife. She calls mo Marmine 

Waitine — My father's brother, if a 
young man. If old he is 
culled Marmine wau (other 

Pana-ngine — My mother's sister's 

Moongine - ino — My mother^s 

younger sister. 
Moongine-ino — ^My father's second 

Yowrine — My mother's brother's 

Yowrine — My father's sister. 
Ng^umine — My mother's brother. 
Pana-ngine— My father's sister's 

Pana-ngine — All those of my 

Koong-ine — ^My son. 
Koorine— My daughter. 
Waitine — ^My brother's son. 
Ne-re-er-ino — My younger sister. 
Koorapine — My father's father, or 

my mother's father. 
Kro-ino, or Polino — My father's 

mother, or my mother's 

Ngup-rine — My father's sister's 


The Booandik have no songs, properly so called, 
lowing are two fair specimens : — 


Yul-yul, thumbal, 
Kallaball, moonarebul 
Nana nan melanin, 
Korotaa, king nal, 
Yongo birrit. 

This is repeated over and over. 

Tlie fol- 


Translation of the foregoing : — 

Fly March-fly, beetle ; 
Fly beetle, bat, night 
Parrot, litUe parrot, 
WatUe bird, minah bird. 


Waton aa yonng naa, 
Konterbul walonaa. 
Young naa konterbul. 

This also is repeated over and over. Translation ; — 

The wbsde is come. 
And thrown up on land. 








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